ft 

Hi 


S.  EDWIN  CORLE,  JR. 
His  Book 


"  Bring  your  lantern  a  little  nearer — yes,  here  it  is." 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ 

VOL.  I 
TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  FRENCH  OF 

EMILE  GABORIAU 


PEARSON'S  LIBRARY  EDITION 

"  Monsieur  Lecoq "  Vol.   1   "  Monsieur  Lecoq "  Vol.  2 

"  The  Gilded  Clique  "  "The  Lerouge  Case  " 

"In    Peril   of   His    Life" 

"File  113" 


THE   PEARSON   PUBLISHING   CO. 

NEW  YORK 


Anna, 


1900 

V,  \ 

MONSIEUR  LECOQ 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   SEARCH. 

AT  about  eleven  o'clock  in  the  evening  ot  the.  aoth  of 
Febuary,  186 — ,  which  chanced  to  be  Shrove  Sunday,  a 
party  of  detectives  left  the  police-station  near  the  old 
Barriere  d'ltalie  to  the  direct  south  of  Paris.  Their  mission 
was  to  explore  the  district  extending  on  the  one  hand 
between  the  highroad  to  Fontainebleau  and  the  Seine,  and 
on  the  other  between  the  outer  boulevards  and  the  fortifi- 
cations. 

This  quarter  of  the  city  had  at  that  time  anything  but  an 
enviable  reputation.  To  venture  there  at  night  was  con- 
sidered so  dangerous  that  the  soldiers  from  the  outlying 
forts  who  came  in  to  Paris  with  permission  to  go  to  the 
theatre,  were  ordered  to  halt  at  the  barriere,  and  not  to  pass 
through  the  perilous  district  excepting  in  parties  of  three 
or  four. 

After  midnight,  these  gloomy,  narrow  streets  became  the 
haunt  of  numerous  homeless  vagabonds,  and  escaped 
criminals  and  malefactors,  moreover,  made  the  quarter  their 
rendezvous.  If  the  day  had  been  a  lucky  one,  they  made 
merry  over  their  spoils,  and  when  sleep  overtook  them,  hid 
in  doorways  or  among  the  rubbish  in  deserted  houses. 
Every  effort  had  been  made  to  dislodge  these  dangerous 
guests,  but  the  most  energetic  measures  had  failed  to  prove 
successful.  Watched,  hunted,  and  in  imminent  danger  of 
arrest  though  they  were,  they  always  returned  with  idiotic 
obstinacy,  obeying,  as  one  might  suppose,  some  mysterious 
law  of  attraction.  Hence,  the  district  was  for  the  police 
an  immense  trap,  constantly  baited,  and  to  which  the  game 
came  of  their  own  accord  to  be  caught. 


2038049 


2  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

The  result  of  a  tour  of  inspection  of  this  locality  was  so 
certain,  that  the  officer  in  charge  of  the  police  post  called 
to  the  squad  as  they  departed  :  "  I  will  prepare  lodgings 
for  our  guests.  Good  luck  to  you  and  much  pleasure  1 " 

This  last  wish  was  pure  irony,  for  the  weather  was  the 
most  disagreeable  that  could  be  imagined.  A  very  heavy 
snow  storm  had  prevailed  for  several  days.  It  was  now 
beginning  to  thaw,  and  on  all  the  frequented  thoroughfares 
the  slush  was  ankle-deep.  It  was  still  cold,  however ;  a 
damp  chill  rilled  the  air,  and  penetrated  to  the  very  marrow 
of  one's  bones.  Besides,  there  was  a  dense  fog,  so  dense 
that  one  could  not  see  one's  hands  before  one's  face. 

"What  a  beastly  job ! "  growled  one  of  the  agents. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  inspector  who  commanded  the  squad  ; 
"  If  you  had  an  income  of  thirty  thousand  francs,  I  don't 
suppose  you'd  be  here."  The  laugh  that  greeted  this 
common-place  joke  was  not  so  much  flattery  as  homage  to 
a  recognised  and  established  superiority. 

The  inspector  was,  in  fact  one  of  the  most  esteemed 
members  of  the  force,  a  man  who  had  proved  his  worth. 
His  powers  of  penetration  were  not,  perhaps,  very  great ; 
but  he  thoroughly  understood  his  profession,  its  resources, 
its  labyrinths,  and  its  artifices.  Long  practice  had  given 
him  imperturbable  coolness,  a  great  confidence  in  himself, 
and  a  sort  of  coarse  diplomacy  that  supplied  the  place  of 
shrewdness.  To  his  failings  and  his  virtues  he  added 
incontestible  courage,  and  he  would  lay  his  hand  upon  the 
collar  of  the  most  dangerous  criminal  as  tranquilly  as  a 
devotee  dips  his  fingers  in  a  basin  of  holy  water. 

He  was  a  man  about  forty-six  years  of  age,- strongly  built, 
with  rugged  features,  a  heavy  moustache,  and  rather  small, 
grey  eyes,  hidden  by  bushy  eyebrows.  His  name  was 
Gevrol,  but  he  was  universally  known  as  "  the  General." 
This  sobriquet  was  pleasing  to  his  vanity,  which  was  not 
slight,  as  his  subordinates  well  knew ;  and,  doubtless,  he 
felt  that  he  ought  to  receive  from  them  the  same  considera- 
tion as  was  due  to  a  person  of  that  exalted  rank. 

"  If  you  begin  to  complain  already,"  he  added,  gruffly, 
what  will  you  do  by-and-bye  ?  " 

In  fact,  it  was  too  soon  to  complain.  The  little  party 
were  then  passing  along  the  Rue  de  Choisy.  The  people 
on  the  footways  were  orderly  ;  and  the  lights  of  the  wine- 
shops illuminated  the  street.  All  these  places  were  open. 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  3 

There  is  no  fog  or  thaw  that  is  potent  enough  to  dismay 
lovers  of  pleasure.  And  a  boisterous  crowd  of  masker1* 
filled  each  tavern,  and  public  ballroom.  Through  the  open 
windows  came  alternately  the  sounds  of  loud  voices  and 
bursts  of  noisy  music.  Occasionally,  a  drunken  man 
staggered  along  the  pavement,  or  a  masked  figure  crept  by 
in  the  shadow  cast  by  the  houses. 

Before  certain  establishments  Gevrol  commanded  a  halt. 
He  gave  a  peculiar  whistle,  and  almost  immediately  a  man 
came  out.  This  was  another  member  of  the  force.  His 
report  was  listened  to,  and  then  the  squad  passed  on. 

"  To  the  left,  boys  !  "  ordered  Gevrol ;  "  we  will  take  the 
Rue  d'lvry,  and  then  cut  through  the  shortest  way  to  the 
Rue  de  Chevaleret." 

From  this  point  the  expedition  became  really  disagreeable. 
The  way  led  through  an  unfinished,  unnamed  street,  full  of 
puddles  and  deep  holes,  and  obstructed  with  all  sorts  of 
rubbish.  There  were  no  longer  any  lights  or  crowded 
wine-shops.  No  footsteps,  no  voices  were  heard ;  solitude, 
gloom,  and  an  almost  perfect  silence  prevailed ;  and  one 
might  have  supposed  oneself  a  hundred  leagues  from  Paris, 
had  it  not  been  for  the  deep  and  continuous  murmur  that 
always  arises  from  a  large  city,  resembling  the  hollow  roar 
of  a  torrent  in  some  cavern  depth. 

All  the  men  had  turned  up  their  trousers  and  were 
advancing  slowly,  picking  their  way  as  carefully  as  an 
Indian  when  he  is  stealing  upon  his  prey.  They  had  just 
passed  the  Rue  du  Chateau-des-Rentiers  when  suddenly  a 
wild  shriek  rent  the  air.  At  this  place,  and  at  this  hour, 
such  a  cry  was  so  frightfully  significant,  that  all  the  men 
paused  as  if  by  common  impulse. 

"  Did  you  here  that,  General  ? "  asked  one  of  the  detec- 
tives, in  a  low  voice. 

"  Yes,  there  is  murder  going  on  not  far  from  here — but 
where  ?  Silence  !  let  us  listen." 

They  all  stood  motionless,  holding  their  breath,  and 
anxiously  listening.  Soon  a  second  cry,  or  rather  a  wild 
howl,  resounded. 

"  Ah !  "  exclaimed  the  inspector,  "  it  is  at  the  Poivriere." 

This  peculiar  appellation  "  Poivriere  "  or  "  pepper-box  " 
was  derived  from  the  term  "  peppered  "  which  in  French 
slang  is  applied  to  a  man  who  has  left  his  good  sense  at 
the  bottom  of  his  glass.  Hence,  also,  the  sobriquet  of 


4  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

"  pepper  thieves  "  given  to  the  rascals  whose  specialty  It  is 
to  plunder  helpless,  inoffensive  drunkards. 

"  What !  "  added  Gevrol  to  his  companions,  "  don't  you 
know  Mother  Chupin's  drinking-shop  there  on  the  right. 
Run." 

And,  setting  the  example,  he  dashed  off  in  the  direction 
indicated.  His  men  followed,  and  in  less  than  a  minute 
they  reached  a  hovel  of  sinister  aspect,  standing  alone,  in 
a  tract  of  waste  ground.  It  was  indeed  from  this  den  that 
the  cries  had  proceeded.  They  were  now  repeated,  and 
were  immediately  followed  by  two  pistol  shots.  The  house 
was  hermetically  closed,  but  through  the  cracks  in  the 
window-shutters,  gleamed  a  reddish  light  like  that  of  a  fire. 
One  of  the  police-agents  darted  to  one  of  these  windows, 
and  raising  himself  up  by  clinging  to  the  shutters  with  his 
hands,  endeavoured  to  peer  through  the  cracks,  and  to  see 
what  was  passing  within. 

Gevrol  himself  ran  to  the  door.  "  Open  ! "  he  com- 
manded striking  it  heavily.  No  response  came.  But  they 
could  hear  plainly  enough  the  sound  of  a  terrible  struggle 
— of  fierce  imprecations,  hollow  groans,  and  occasionally 
the  sobs  of  a  woman. 

"  Horrible ! "  cried  the  police-agent,  who  was  peering 
through  the  shutters  ;  "  it  is  horrible  !  " 

This  exclamation  decided  Gevrol.  "  Open,  in  the  name 
of  the  law ! "  he  cried,  a  third  time. 

And  no  one  responding,  with  a  blow  of  the  shoulder 
that  was  as  violent  as  a  blow  from  a  battering-ram,  he 
dashed  open  the  door.  Then  the  horror-stricken  accent  of 
the  man  who  had  been  peering  through  the  shutters  was 
explained.  The  room  presented  such  a  spectacle  that  all 
the  agents,  and  even  Gevrol  himself  remained  for  a  mo- 
ment rooted  to  the  threshold,  shuddering  with  unspeakable 
horror. 

Everything  denoted  that  the  house  had  been  the  scene 
of  a  terrible  struggle,  of  one  of  those  savage  conflicts 
which  only  too  often  stain  the  barriere  drinking  dens  with 
blood.  The  lights  had  been  extinguished  at  the  beginning 
of  the  strife,  but  a  blazing  fire  of  pine  logs  illuminated 
even  the  furthest  corners  of  the  room.  Tables,  glasses, 
decanters,  household  utensils,  and  stools  had  been  over- 
turned, thrown  in  every  direction,  trodden  upon,  shivered 
into  fragments.  Near  the  fireplace  two  men  lay  stretched 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  $ 

upon  the  floor.  They  were  lying  motionless  upon  their 
backs,  with  their  arms  crossed.  A  third  was  extended  in 
the  middle  of  the  room.  A  woman  crouched  upon  the 
lower  steps  of  a  staircase  leading  to  the  floor  above.  She 
had  thrown  her  apron  over  her  head,  and  was  uttering  in- 
articulate moans.  Finally,  facing  the  police,  and  with  his 
back  turned  to  an  open  door  leading  into  an  adjoining 
room,  stood  a  young  man,  in  front  of  whom  a  heavy  oaken 
table  formed,  as  it  were,  a  rampart. 

He  was  of  medium  stature,  and  wore  a  full  beard.  His 
clothes,  not  unlike  those  of  a  railway  porter,  were  torn  to 
fragments,  and  soiled  with  dust  and  wine  and  blood. 
This  certainly  was  the  murderer.  The  expression  on  his 
face  was  terrible.  A  mad  fury  blazed  in  his  eyes,  and  a 
convulsive  sneer  distorted  his  features.  On  his  neck  and 
cheek  were  two  wounds  which  bled  profusely.  In  his 
right  hand,  covered  with  a  handkerchief,  he  held  a  pistol, 
which  he  aimed  at  the  intruders. 

"  Surrender !  "  cried  Gevrol. 

The  man's  lips  moved,  but  in  spite  of  a  visible  effort  he 
could  not  articulate  a  syllable. 

"  Don't  do  any  mischief,"  continued  the  inspector,  "  we 
are  in  force,  you  cannot  escape ;  so  lay  down  your  arms." 

"I  am  innocent,"  exclaimed  the  man,  in  a  hoarse, 
strained  voice. 

"  Naturally,  but  we  do  not  see  it." 

"  I  have  been  attacked ;  ask  that  old  woman.  I  defended 
myself ;  I  have  killed — I  had  a  right  to  do  so ;  it  was  in 
self-defence ! " 

The  gesture  with  which  he  enforced  these  words  was  so 
menacing  that  one  of  the  agents  drew  Gevrol  violently 
aside,  saying,  as  he  did  so ;  "  Take  care,  General,  take 
care  !  The  revolver  has  five  barrels,  and  we  have  heard 
but  two  shots." 

But  the  inspector  was  inaccessible  to  fear ;  he  freed 
himself  from  the  grasp  of  his  subordinate  and  again  step- 
ped forward,  speaking  in  a  still  calmer  tone.  "  No  fool- 
ishness, my  lad ;  if  your  case  is  a  good  one,  which  is 
possible  after  all,  don't  spoil  it." 

A  frightful  indecision  betrayed  itself  on  the  young  man's 
features.  He  held  Gevrol's  life  at  the  end  of  his  finger , 
was  he  about  to  press  the  trigger  ?  No,  he  suddenly  threw 
his  weapon  to  the  floor,  exclaiming:  "Come  and  take 


6  MONSIEUR  LEcOQ. 

me !  "  And  turning  as  he  spoke  he  darted  into  the  ad- 
joining room,  hoping  doubtless  to  escape  by  some  means 
of  egress  which  he  knew  of. 

Gevrol  had  expected  this  movement.  He  sprang  after 
him  with  outstretched  arms,  but  the  table  retarded  his 
pursuit.  "  Ah  ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  the  wretch  escapes  us  !  " 

But  the  fate  of  the  fugitive  was  already  decided.  While 
Gevrol  parleyed,  one  of  the  agents — he  who  had  peered 
through  the  shutters — had  gone  to  the  rear  of  the  house 
and  effected  an  entrance  through  the  back  door.  As  the 
murderer  darted  out,  this  man  sprang  upon  him,  seized 
him,  and  with  surprising  strength  and  agility  dragged  him 
back.  The  murderer  tried  to  resist ;  but  in  vain.  He  had 
lost  his  strength  :  he  tottered  and  fell  upon  the  table  that 
had  momentarily  protected  him,  murmuring  loud  enough 
for  everyone  to  hear :  "  Lost !  It  is  the  Prussians  who 
are  coming ! " 

This  simple  and  decisive  manoeuvre  on  the  part  of  the 
subordinate  had  won  the  victory,  and  at  first  it  greatly 
delighted  the  inspector.  "  Good,  my  boy,"  said  he,  "  very 
good !  Ah  !  you  have  a  talent  for  your  business,  and  you 
will  do  well  if  ever  an  opportunity " 

But  he  checked  himself ;  all  his  followers  so  evidently 
shared  his  enthusiasm  that  a  feeling  of  jealousy  overcame 
him.  He  felt  his  prestige  diminishing,  and  hastened  to 
add :  "  The  idea  had  occurred  to  me ;  but  I  could  not  give 
the  order  without  warning  the  scoundrel  himself." 

This  remark  was  superfluous.  All  the  police-agents  had 
now  gathered  around  the  murderer.  They  began  by  bind- 
ing his  feet  and  hands,  and  then  fastened  him  securely  to 
a  chair.  He  offered  no  resistance.  His  wild  excitement 
had  given  place  to  that  gloomy  prostration  that  follows  all 
unnatural  efforts,  either  of  mind  or  body.  Evidently  he 
had  abandoned  himself  to  his  fate. 

When  Gevrol  saw  that  the  men  had  finished  their  task, 
he  called  on  them  to  attend  to  the  other  inmates  of  the 
den,  and  in  addition  ordered  the  lamps  to  be  lit  for  the 
fire  was  going  out.  The  inspector  began  his  examination 
with  the  two  men  lying  near  the  fireplace.  He  laid  his 
hand  on  their  hearts,  but  no  pulsations  were  to  be  detected. 
He  then  held  the  face  of  his  watch  close  to  fheir  lips,  but 
the  glass  remained  quite  clear.  "Useless,"  he  murmured, 
after  several  trials,  "  useless ;  they  are  dead !  They  wilJ 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  7 

never  see  morning  again.  Leave  them  in  the  same  posi- 
tion until  the  arrival  of  the  public  prosecutor,  and  let  us 
look  at  the  other  one." 

The  third  man  still  breathed.  He  was  a  young  fellow, 
wearing  the  uniform  of  a  common  soldier  of  the  line.  He 
was  unarmed,  and  his  large  bluish  grey  cloak  was  partly 
open,  revealing  his  bare  chest.  The  agents  lifted  him 
very  carefully — for  he  groaned  piteously  at  the  slightest 
movement — and  placed  him  in  an  upright  position,  with 
his  back  leaning  against  the  wall.  He  soon  opened  his 
eyes,  and  in  a  faint  voice  asked  for  something  to  drink. 
They  brought  him  a  glass  of  water,  which  he  drank  with 
evident  satisfaction.  He  then  drew  a  long  breatir,  and 
seemed  to  regain  some  little  strength. 

"  Where  are  you  wounded  ? "  asked  Gevrol. 

"  In  the  head,  there,"  he  responded,  trying  to  raise  one 
of  his  arms.  "  Oh  !  how  I  suffer." 

The  police-agent,  who  had  cut  off  the  murderer's  retreat 
now  approached,  and  with  a  dexterity  that  an  old  surgeon 
might  have  envied,  made  an  examination  of  the  gaping 
wound  which  the  young  man  had  received  in  the  back  of 
the  neck.  "  It  is  nothing,"  declared  the  police-agent,  but 
as  he  spoke  there  was  no  mistaking  the  movement  of  his 
lower  lip.  It  was  evident  that  he  considered  the  wound 
very  dangerous,  probably  mortal. 

"  It  will  be  nothing,"  affirmed  Gevrol  in  his  turn  ; 
"  wounds  in  the  head,  when  they  do  not  kill  at  once,  are 
cured  in  a  month." 

The  wounded  man  smiled  sadly.  "  I  have  received  my 
death  blow,"  he  murmured. 

"  Nonsense ! " 

"  Oh  !  it  is  useless  to  say  anything ;  I  feel  it,  but  I  do 
not  complain.  I  have  only  received  my  just  deserts." 

All  the  police-agents  turned  towards  the  murderer  on 
hearing  these  words,  presuming  that  he  would  take  ad- 
vantage of  this  opportunity  to  repeat  his  protestations  of 
innocence.  But  their  expectations  were  disappointed ;  he 
did  not  speak,  although  he  must  certainly  have  heard  the 
words. 

"  It  was  that  brigand,  Lacheneur,  who  enticed  me  here," 
continued  the  wounded  man,  ir  a  voice  that  was  growing 
fainter. 

"  Lacheneur  ? " 


8  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

"  Yes,  Jean  Lacheneur,  a  former  actor,  who  knew  me 
when  I  was  rich — for  I  had  a  fortune,  but  I  spent  it  all ; 
I  wished  to  amuse  myself.  He,  knowing  I  was  without 
a  single  sou  in  the  world,  came  and  promised  me  money 
enough  to  begin  life  over  again.  Fool  that  I  was  to  be- 
lieve him,  for  he  brought  me  to  die  here  like  a  dog  !  Oh  ! 
I  will  have  my  revenge  on  him !  "  At  this  thought  the 
wounded  man  clenched  his  hands  threateningly  "  I  will 
have  my  revenge,"  he  resumed.  "  I  know  much  more  than 
he  believes.  I  will  reveal  everything." 

But  he  had  presumed  too  much  upon  his  strength. 
Anger  had  given  him  a  moment's  energy,  but  at  the  cost 
of  his  life  which  was  ebbing  away.  When  he  again  tried 
to  speak,  he  could  not.  Twice  did  he  open  his  lips,  but  only 
a  choking  cry  of  impotent  rage  escaped  them.  This  was 
his  last  manifestation  of  intelligence.  A  bloody  foam 
gathered  upon  his  lips,  his  eyes  rolled  back  in  their 
sockets,  his  body  stiffened,  and  he  fell  face  downward  in  a 
terrible  convulsion. 

"  It  is  over,"  murmured  Gevrol. 

"  Not  yet,"  replied  the  young  police-agent,  who  had 
shown  himself  so  efficient ;  "  but  he  cannot  live  more  than 
two  minutes.  Poor  devil !  he  will  say  nothing." 

The  inspector  of  police  had  risen  from  the  floor  as  if  he 
had  just  witnessed  the  commonest  incident  in  the  world, 
and  was  carefully  dusting  the  knees  of  his  trousers.  "  Oh, 
well,"  he  responded,  "we  shall  know  all  we  need  to  know. 
This  fellow  is  a  soldier,  and  the  number  of  his  regiment 
will  be  given  on  the  buttons  of  his  cloak." 

A  slight  smile  curved  the  lips  of  the  subordinate.  "  I 
think  you  are  mistaken,  General,"  said  he. 

"  How—" 

"  Yes,  I  understand.  Seeing  him  attired  in  a  military 
coat,  you  supposed — But  no ;  this  poor  wretch  was  no 
soldier.  Do  you  wish  for  an  immediate  proof  ?  Is  his 
hair  the  regulation  cut  ?  Where  did  you  ever  see  soldiers 
with  their  hair  falling  over  their  shoulders  ? " 

This  objection  silenced  the  General  for  a  moment ;  but 
he  replied,  brusquely  :  "  Do  you  think  that  I  keep  my  eyes 
in  my  pocket  ?  What  you  have  remarked  did  not  escape 
my  notice ;  only  I  said  to  myself,  here  is  a  young  man 
who  has  profited  by  leave  of  absence  to  visit  the  wig- 
maker." 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  9 

"  At  least—" 

But  Gevrol  would  permit  no  more  interruptions 
"  Enough  talk,"  he  declared.  We  will  now  hear  what  hag 
happened.  Mother  Chupin,  the  old  hussy,  is  not  dead  !  " 

As  he  spoke,  he  advanced  towards  the  old  woman,  who 
was  still  crouching  upon  the  stairs.  She  had  not  moved 
nor  ventured  so  much  as  a  look,  since  the  entrance  of  the 
police,  but  her  moans  had  not  been  discontinued.  With  a 
sudden  movement,  Gevrol  tore  off  the  apron  which  she  had 
thrown  over  her  head,  and  there  she  stood,  such  as  years, 
vice,  poverty,  and  drink  had  made  her  ;  wrinkled,  shrivelled, 
toothless,  and  haggard,  her  skin  as  yellow  and  as  dry  as 
parchment  and  drawn  tightly  over  her  bones. 

"Come,  stand  up!"  ordered  the  inspector.  "Your 
lamentations  don't  affect  me.  You  ought  to  be  sent  to 
prison  for  putting  such  vile  drugs  into  your  liquors  thus 
breeding  madness  in  the  brains  of  your  customers." 

The  old  woman's  little  red  eyes  travelled  slowly  round 
the  room,  and  then  in  tearful  tones  she  exclaimed  : — 
"  What  a  misfortune  !  what  will  become  of  me  ?  Every- 
thing is  broken — I  am  ruined !  "  She  only  seemed  im- 
pressed by  the  loss  of  her  table  utensils. 

"  Now  tell  us  how  this  trouble  began,"  said  Gevrol. 

"  Alas  !  I  know  nothing  about  it.  I  was  upstairs 
mending  my  son's  clothes,  when  I  heard  a  dispute." 

"  And  after  that  ? " 

"  Of  course  I  came  down,  and  I  saw  those  three  men 
that  are  lying  there  picking  a  quarrel  with  the  young  man 
you  have  arrested  ;  the  poor  innocent !  For  he  is  innocent, 
as  truly  as  I  am  an  honest  woman.  If  my  son  Polyte  had 
been  here  he  would  have  separated  them ;  but  I,  a  poor 
widow,  what  could  I  do  !  I  cried  '  Police  ! '  with  all  my 
might." 

After  giving  this  testimony  she  resumed  her  seat,  think- 
ing she  had  said  enough.  But  Gevrol  rudely  ordered  her 
to  stand  up  again.  "  Oh  !  we  have  not  done,"  said  he. 
"  I  wish  for  other  particulars." 

"  What  particulars,  dear  Monsieur  Gevrol,  since  I  saw 
nothing  ?  " 

Anger  crimsoned  the  inspector's  ears.  "  What  would 
rou  say,  old  woman,  if  I  arrested  you  ? " 

*  It  would  be  a  great  piece  of  injustice." 

**  Nevertheless,  it  is  what  will  happen  if  you  persist  in  re 


10  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

maining  silent.  I  have  an  idea  that  a  fortnight  in  Saint 
Lazare  would  untie  your  tongue." 

These  words  produced  the  effect  of  an  electric  shock  on 
the  Widow  Chupin.  She  suddenly  ceased  her  hypocritical 
lamentations,  rose,  placed  her  hands  defiantly  on  her  hips, 
and  poured  forth  a  torrent  of  invective  upon  Gevrol  and  his 
agents,  accusing  them  of  persecuting  her  family  ever  since 
they  had  previously  arrested  her  son,  a  good-for-nothing 
fellow.  Finally,  she  swore  that  she  was  not  afraid  of 
prison,  and  would  be  only  too  glad  to  end  her  days  in  jail 
beyond  the  reach  of  want. 

At  first  the  general  tried  to  impose  silence  upon  the  ter 
rible  termagant :  but  he  soon  discovered  that  he  was 
powerless ;  besides,  all  his  subordinates  were  laughing. 
Accordingly  he  turned  his  back  upon  her,  and,  advancing 
towards  the  murderer,  he  said  : — "  You,  at  least,  will  not 
refuse  an  explanation." 

The  man  hesitated  for  a  moment.  "  I  have  already  said 
all  that  I  have  to  say,"  he  replied,  at  last.  "  I  have  told 
you  that  I  am  innocent ;  and  this  woman  and  a  man  on  the 
point  of  death  who  was  struck  down  by  my  hand,  have 
both  confirmed  my  declaration.  What  more  do  you  de- 
sire ?  When  the  judge  questions  me,  I  will,  perhaps, 
reply ;  until  then  do  not  expect  another  word  from  me." 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  the  fellow's  resolution  was  irrev- 
ocable ;  and  that  he  was  not  to  be  daunted  by  any  inspec- 
tor of  police.  Criminals  frequently  preserve  an  absolute 
silence,  from  the  very  moment  they  are  captured.  These 
men  are  experienced  and  shrewd,  and  lawyers  and  judges 
pass  many  sleepless  nights  on  their  account.  They  have 
learned  that  a  system  of  defence  cannot  be  improvised  at 
once  ;  that  it  is,  on  the  contrary,  a  work  of  patience  and 
meditation;  and  knowing  what  a  term, >e  effect  an  appar- 
ently insignificant  response  drawn  from  them  at  the  mo- 
ment of  detection  may  produce  on  a  court  of  justice,  they 
remain  obstinately  silent.  So  as  to  see  whether  the 
present  culprit  was  an  old  hand  or  not,  Gevrol  was  about 
to  insist  on  a  full  explanation  when  someone  announced 
that  the  soldier  had  just  breathed  his  last. 

"  As  that  is  so,  my  boys,"  the  inspector  remarked,  "  two 
of  you  will  remain  here,  and  I  will  leave  with  the  others. 
I  shall  go  and  arouse  the  commissary  of  police,  and  inform 
him  of  the  affair ;  he  will  take  the  matter  in  hand  :  and 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  i\ 

we  can  then  do  whatever  he  commands.  My  responsibility 
will  be  over,  in  any  case.  So  untie  our  prisoner's  legs  and 
bind  Mother  Chupin's  hands,  and  we  will  drop  them  both 
at  the  station-house  as  we  pass." 

The  men  hastened  to  obey,  with  the  exception  of  the 
youngest  among  them,  the  same  who  had  won  the  Gen- 
eral's passing  praise.  He  approached  his  chief,  and 
motioning  that  he  desired  to  speak  with  him,  drew  him 
outside  the  door.  When  they  were  a  few  steps  from  the 
house,  Gevrol  asked  him  what  he  wanted. 

"  I  wish  to  know,  General,  what  you  think  of  this  af- 
fair." 

"  I  think,  my  boy,  that  four  scoundrels  encountered  each 
other  in  this  vile  den.  They  began  to  quarrel ;  and  from 
words  they  came  to  blows.  One  of  them  had  a  revolver, 
and  he  killed  the  others.  It  is  as  clear  as  daylight.  Ac- 
cording to  his  antecedents,  and  according  to  the  antece- 
dents of  the  victims,  the  assassin  will  be  judged.  Perhaps 
society  owes  him  some  thanks." 

"  And  you  think  that  any  investigation — any  further 
search  is  unnecessary." 

"  Entirely  unnecessary." 

The  younger  man  appeared  to  deliberate  for  a  moment. 
"  It  seems  to  me,  General,"  he  at  length  replied,  "  that  this 
affair  is  not  perfectly  clear.  Have  you  noticed  the  mur- 
derer, remarked  his  demeanour,  and  observed  his  look  ? 
Have  you  been  surprised  as  I  have  been — ? " 

"  By  what  ?  " 

"  Ah,  well !  it  seems  to  me — I  may,  of  course,  be  mis- 
taken— but  I  fancy  that  appearances  are  deceitful,  and — 
Yes,  I  suspect  something." 

"  Bah  ! — explain  yourself,  please." 

"  How  can  you  explain  the  dog's  faculty  of  scent  ? " 

Gevrol  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  In  short,"  he  replied, 
"  you  scent  a  melodrama  here — a  rendezvous  of  gentlemen 
in  disguise,  here  at  the  Poivriere,  at  Mother  Chupin's  house. 
Well,  hunt  after  the  mystery,  my  boy  ;  search  all  you  like, 
you  have  my  permission." 

"  What  !  you  will  allow  me  ?  " 

"  I  not  only  allow  you,  I  order  you  to  do  it.  You  are 
going  to  remain  here  with  any  one  of  your  comrades  you 
may  select.  And  if  you  find  anything  that  I  have  not  seen, 
I  will  allow  you  to  buy  me  a  pair  of  spectacles." 


12  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 


II. 

THE  young  police-agent  to  whom  Gevrol  abandoned 
what  he  thought  an  unnecessary  investigation  was  a  debu- 
tant in  his  profession.  His  name  was  Lecoq.  He  was 
some  twenty-five  or  twenty-six  years  of  age,  almost  beard* 
less,  very  pale,  with  red  lips,  and  an  abundance  of  wavy 
black  hair.  He  was  rather  short  but  well  proportioned  \ 
and  each  of  his  movements  betrayed  unusual  energy. 
There  was  nothing  remarkable  about  his  appearance,  if  we 
except  his  eyes,  which  sparkled  brilliantly  or  grew  ex- 
tremely dull,  according  to  his  mood ;  and  his  nose,  the  large 
full  nostrils  of  which  had  a  surprising  mobility. 

The  son  of  a  respectable,  well-to-do  Norman  family, 
Lecoq  had  received  a  good  and  solid  education.  He  was 
prosecuting  his  law  studies  in  Paris,  when  in  the  same 
week,  blow  following  blow,  he  learned  that  his  father  had 
died,  financially  ruined,  and  that  his  mother  had  survived 
him  only  a  few  hours.  He  was  left  alone  in  the  world, 
destitute  of  resources,  obliged  to  earn  his  living.  But  how  ? 
He  had  an  opportunity  of  learning  his  true  value,  and 
found  that  it  amounted  to  nothing  ;  for  the  university,  on 
bestowing  its  diploma  of  bachelor,  does  not  give  an  annuity 
with  it.  Hence,  of  what  use  is  a  college  education  to  a 
poor  orphan  boy  ?  He  envied  the  lot  of  those  who,  with  a 
trade  at  the  ends  of  their  fingers,  could  boldly  enter  the 
office  of  any  manufacturer,  and  say : — "  I  would  like  to 
work."  Such  men  were  working  and  eating.  Lecoq 
sought  bread  by  all  the  methods  employed  by  people  who 
are  in  reduced  circumstances  !  Fruitless  labour !  There 
are  a  hundred  thousand  people  in  Paris  who  have  seen 
better  days.  No  matter !  He  gave  proofs  of  undaunted 
energy.  He  gave  lessons,  and  copied  documents  for  a 
lawyer.  He  made  his  appearance  in  a  new  character 
almost  every  day,  and  left  no  means  untried  to  earn  an 
honest  livelihood.  At  last  he  obtained  employment  from 
a  well  known  astronomer,  the  Baron  Moser,  and  spent  his 
days  in  solving  bewildering  and  intricate  problems,  at  the 
rate  of  a  hundred  francs  a  month. 

But  a  season  of  discouragement  came.  After  five  yea/'j 
of  constant  toil,  he  found  himself  at  the  same  point  from 
which  he  had  started.  He  was  nearly  crazed  with  rag* 


MONSIEUR  LECUQ.  ij 

and  disappointment  when  he  recapitulated  his  blighted 
hopes,  his  fruitless  efforts,  and  the  insults  he  had  endured. 
The  past  had  been  sad,  the  present  was  intolerable,  the 
future  threatened  to  be  terrible.  Condemned  to  constant 
privations,  he  tried  to  escape  from  the  horrors  of  his  real 
life  by  taking  refuge  in  dreams. 

Alone  in  his  garret,  after  a  day  of  unremitting  toil, 
assailed  by  the  thousand  longings  of  youth,  Lecoq  endeav- 
oured to  devise  some  means  of  suddenly  making  himself 
rich.  All  reasonable  methods  being  beyond  his  reach, 
it  was  not  long  before  he  was  engaged  in  devising  the  worst 
expedients.  In  short,  this  naturally  moral  and  honest 
young  man  spent  much  of  his  time  in  perpetrating — in 
fancy — the  most  abominable  crimes.  Sometimes  he  him- 
self was  frightened  by  the  work  of  his  imagination  :  for 
an  hour  of  recklessness  might  suffice  to  make  him  pass  from 
the  idea  to  the  fact,  from  theory  to  practice.  This  is  the 
case  with  all  monomaniacs  ;  an  hour  comes  in  which  the 
strange  conceptions  that  have  filled  their  brains  can  be  no 
longer  held  in  check. 

One  day  he  could  not  refrain  from  exposing  to  his  patron 
a  little  plan  he  had  conceived,  which  would  enable  him  to 
obtain  five  or  six  hundred  francs  from  London.  Two 
letters  and  a  telegram  were  all  that  was  necessary,  and 
the  game  was  won.  It  was  impossible  to  fail,  and  there 
was  no  danger  of  arousing  suspicion. 

The  astronomer,  amazed  at  the  simplicity  of  the  plan, 
could  but  admire  it.  On  reflection,  however,  he  concluded 
that  it  would  not  be  prudent  for  him  to  retain  so  ingenious  a 
secretary  in  his  service.  This  was  why,  on  the  following 
day,  he  gave  him  a  month's  pay  in  advance,  and  dismissed 
him,  saying  :  "  When  one  has  your  disposition,  and  is 
poor,  one  may  either  become  a  famous  thief  or  a  great  de- 
tective. Choose." 

Lecoq  retired  in  confusion ;  but  the  astronomer's  words 
bore  fruit  in  his  mind.  "  Why  should  I  not  follow  good 
advice  ?  "  he  asked  himself.  Police  service  did  not  inspire 
him  with  repugnance — far  from  it.  He  had  often  admired 
that  mysterious  power  whose  hand  is  everywhere,  and 
which,  although  unseen  and  unheard,  still  manages  to 
hear  and  see  everything.  He  was  delighted  with  the  pros- 
pect of  being  the  instrument  of  such  a  power.  He  con- 
sidered that  the  profession  of  detective  would  enable  him 


ix  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

to  employ  the  talents  with  which  he  had  been  endowed  in 
a  useful  and  honourable  fashion ;  besides  opening  out  a 
life  of  thrilling  adventure  with  fame  as  its  goal. 

In  short,  this  profession  had  a  wonderful  charm  for  him. 
So  much  so,  that  on  the  following  week,  thanks  to  a  letter 
from  Baron  Moser,  he  was  admitted  into  the  service.  A 
cruel  disenchantment  awaited  him.  He  had  seen  the  re- 
sults, but  not  the  means.  His  surprise  was  like  that  of  a 
simple-minded  frequenter  of  the  theatre,  when  he  is  admit- 
ted for  the  first  time  behind  the  scenes,  and  is  able  to  pry 
into  the  decorations  and  tinsel  that  are  so  dazzling  at  a 
distance. 

However,  the  opportunity  for  which  he  had  so  ardently 
longed,  for  which  he  had  been  waiting  during  many  weary 
months,  had  come,  he  thought,  at  last,  as  he  reached  the 
Poivriere  with  Gevrol  and  the  other  police-agents.  While 
he  was  clinging  to  the  window  shutters  he  saw  by  the 
light  of  his  ambition  a  pathway  to  success.  It  was  at  first 
only  a  presentiment,  but  it  soon  became  a  supposition, 
and  then  a  conviction  based  upon  actual  facts,  which  had 
escaped  his  companions,  but  which  he  had  observed  and 
carefully  noted.  He  recognised  that  fortune  had,  at  last, 
turned  in  his  favour  when  he  saw  Gevrol  neglect  all  but 
the  merest  formalities  of  examination,  and  when  he  heard 
him  declare  peremptorily  that  this  triple  murder  was 
merely  the  results  of  one  of  those  ferocious  quarrels  so  fre- 
quent among  vagrants  in  the  outskirts  of  the  city. 

"  Ah,  well  !  "  he  thought ;  "  have  it  your  own  way — 
trust  in  appearances,  since  you  will  see  nothing  beneath 
them  !  But  I  will  prove  to  you  that  my  youthful  theory 
is  better  than  all  your  experience." 

The  inspector's  carelessness  gave  Lecoq  a  perfect  right 
to  secretly  seek  information  on  his  own  account ;  but  by 
warning  his  superior  officers  before  attempting  anything 
on  his  own  responsibility,  he  would  protect  himself  against 
any  accusation  of  ambition  or  of  unduly  taking  advantage 
of  his  comrade.  Such  charges  might  prove  most  danger- 
ous for  his  future  prospects  in  a  profession  where  so  much 
rivalry  is  seen,  and  where  wounded  vanity  has  so  many 
opportunities  to  avenge  itself  by  resorting  to  all  sorts  of 
petty  treason.  Accordingly,  he  spoke  to  his  superior 
offi^r — saying  just  enough  to  be  able  to  remark,  in  case 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  13 

of  success  :  "  Ah  !  I  warned  you  ! " — just  enough  so  as 
not  to  dispel  any  of  Gevrol's  doubts. 

The  permission  which  Lecoq  obtained  to  remain  in 
in  charge  of  the  bodies  was  his  first  triumph  of  the  best 
possible  augury ;  but  he  knew  how  to  dissimulate,  and  it 
was  in  a  tone  of  the  utmost  indifference  that  he  requested 
one  of  his  comrades  to  remain  with  him.  Then,  while 
the  others  were  making  ready  to  depart,  he  seated  him- 
self upon  a  cornor  of  the  table,  apparently  oblivious  of  all 
that  was  passing  around.  He  did  not  dare  to  lift  his  head, 
for  fear  of  betraying  his  joy,  so  much  did  he  fear  that  his 
companions  might  read  his  hopes  and  plans  in  the  ex- 
pression of  his  face. 

Inwardly  he  was  wild  with  impatience.  Though  the 
murderer  submitted  with  good  grace  to  the  precautions 
that  were  taken  to  prevent  his  escape,  it  required  some 
time  to  bind  the  hands  of  the  Widow  Chupin,  who  fought 
and  howled  as  if  they  were  burning  her  alive.  "  They 
will  never  go  !  "  Lecoq  murmured  to  himself. 

They  did  so  at  last,  however.  Gevrol  gave  the  order 
to  start,  and  left  the  house,  addressing  a  laughing  good- 
bye to  his  subordinate.  The  latter  made  no  reply.  He 
followed  his  comrades  as  far  as  the  threshold  to  make 
sure  that  they  were  really  going,  for  he  trembled  at  the 
thought  that  Gevrol  might  reflect,  change  his  mind,  and 
return  to  solve  the  mystery,  as  was  his  right. 

His  anxiety  was  needless,  however.  The  squad  gradu- 
ally faded  away  in  the  distance,  and  the  cries  of  Widow 
Chupin  died  away  in  the  stillness  of  the  night.  It  was 
only  then  that  Lecoq  re-entered  the  room.  He  could  no 
longer  conceal  his  delight ;  his  eyes  sparkled  as  might 
those  of  a  conqueror  taking  possession  of  some  vast 
empire  :  he  stamped  his  foot  upon  the  floor  and  exclaimed 
with  exultation  :  "  Now  the  mystery  belongs  to  us  two 
alone  ! " 

Authorised  by  Gevrol  to  choose  one  of  his  comrades 
to  remain  with  him  at  the  Poivriere,  Lecoq  had  requested 
the  least  intelligent  of  the  party  to  keep  him  company. 
He  was  not  influenced  by  a  fear  of  being  obliged  to  share 
the  fruits  of  success  with  his  companion,  but  by  the 
necessity  of  having  an  assistant  from  whom  he  could,  in 
case  of  need,  exact  implicit  obedience. 

The  comrade  Lecoq  selected  was  a  man  of  about  fifty, 


16  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

who,  after  a  term  of  cavalry  service,  had  become  an  agent 
of  the  prefecture.  In  the  humble  office  that  he  occupied 
he  had  seen  prefect  succeed  prefect,  and  might  probably 
have  filled  an  entire  prison  with  the  culprits  he  had  arrested 
with  his  own  hands.  Experience  had  not,  however,  made 
him  any  the  shrewder  or  any  the  more  zealous.  Still  he 
had  this  merit,  when  he  received  an  order  he  executed  it 
with  military  exactitude,  so  far  as  he  understood  it.  Of 
course  if  he  had  failed  to  understand  it,  so  much  the  worse. 
It  might,  indeed,  be  said  of  him,  that  he  discharged  his 
duties  like  a  blind  man,  like  an  old  horse  trained  for  a 
riding  school. 

When  he  had  a  moment's  leisure,  and  a  little  money  in 
his  pocket,  he  invariably  got  drunk.  Indeed,  he  spent  his 
life  between  two  fits  of  intoxication,  without  ever  rising 
above  a  condition  of  semi-lucidity.  His  comrades  had 
known,  but  had  forgotten,  his  name,  and  his  partiality  for 
a  certain  beverage  had  accordingly  induced  them  to  call 
him  "  Father  Absinthe." 

With  his  limited  powers  of  observation,  he  naturally  did 
not  observe  the  tone  of  triumph  in  his  young  companion's 
voice.  "  Upon  my  word,"  he  remarked,  when  they  were 
alone,  "  your  idea  of  keeping  me  here  was  a  good  one, 
and  I  thank  you  for  it.  While  the  others  spend  the  night 
paddling  about  in  the  slush,  I  shall  get  a  good  sleep." 

Here  he  stood,  in  a  room  that  was  splashed  with  blood, 
that  was  shuddering  so  to  speak  with  crime,  and  yet  face 
to  face  with  the  still  warm  bodies  of  three  murdered  men 
he  could  talk  of  sleep ! 

But,  after  all,  what  did  it  matter  to  him  ?  He  had  seen 
so  many  similar  scenes  in  his  time.  And  does  not  habit 
infallibly  lead  to  professional  indifference,  making  the 
soldier  cool  and  composed  in  the  midst  of  conflict,  and 
rendering  the  surgeon  impassible  when  the  patient  shrieks 
and  writhes  beneath  his  operating  knife. 

"  I  have  been  upstairs,  looking  about,"  pursued  Father 
Absinthe  ;  "  I  saw  a  bed  up  there,  and  we  can  mount  guard 
here,  by  turns." 

With  an  imperious  gesture,  Lecoq  interrupted  him. 
"  You  must  give  up  that  idea,  Father  Absinthe,"  he  said, 
"  we  are  not  here  to  sleep,  but  to  collect  information — to 
make  the  most  careful  researches,  and  to  note  all  the 
probabilities.  In  a  few  hours  the  commissary  of  policy 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  17 

the  legal  physician,  and  the  public  prosecutor  will  be  here. 
I  wish  to  have  a  report  ready  for  them." 

This  proposition  seemed  anything  but  pleasing  to  the 
old  police-agent.  "  Eh !  what  is  the  use  of  that  ? "  he 
exclaimed.  "  I  know  the  General.  When  he  goes  in 
search  of  the  commissary,  as  he  has  gone  this  evening,  there  is 
nothing  more  to  be  done.  Do  you  think  you  can  see  any- 
thing that  he  didn't  see  ? " 

"  I  think  that  Gevrol,  like  everyone  else,  is  liable  to  be 
mistaken.  I  think  that  he  believes  too  implicitly  in  what 
seems  to  him  evidence.  I  could  swear  that  this  affair  is 
not  what  it  seems  to  be ;  and  I  am  sure  that  if  we  like  we 
can  discover  the  mystery  which  is  concealed  beneath 
present  appearances." 

Although  Lecoq's  vehemence  was  intense,  he  did  not 
succeed  in  making  any  impression  upon  his  companion, 
who  with  a  yawn  that  threatened  to  dislocate  his  jaws, 
replied :  "  Perhaps  you  are  right ;  but  I  am  going  to  bed. 
This  need  not  prevent  you  from  searching  around,  how- 
ever; and  if  you  find  anything  you  can  wake  me." 

Lecoq  made  no  sign  of  impatience  :  nor  in  reality  was 
he  impatient.  These  words  afforded  him  the  opportunity 
for  which  he  was  longing.  "  You  will  give  me  a  moment 
first,"  he  remarked.  "  In  five  minutes,  by  your  watch,  I 
promise  to  let  you  put  your  finger  on  the  mystery  that  I 
suspect  here." 

"  Well,  go  on  for  five  minutes." 

"  After  that  you  shall  be  free,  Father  Absinthe.  Only 
it  is  clear  that  if  I  unravel  the  mystery  alone,  I  alone  ought 
to  pocket  the  reward  that  a  solution  will  certainly  bring." 

At  the  word  "  reward  "  the  old  police  agent  pricked  up 
his  ears.  He  was  dazzled  by  the  vision  of  an  infinite 
number  of  bottles  of  the  greenish  liquor  whose  name  he 
bore.  "  Convince  me,  then,"  said  he,  taking  a  seat  upon 
a  stool,  which  he  had  lifted  from  the  floor. 

Lecoq  remained  standing  in  front  of  him.  "  To  begin 
with,"  he  remarked,  "  whom  do  you  suppose  the  person 
we  have  just  arrested  to  be  ?  " 

"  A  porter,  probably,  or  a  vagabond." 

"  That  is  to  say,  a  man  belonging  to  the  lowest  class  of 
society :  consequently,  a  fellow  without  education." 

"  Certainly." 

Lecoq  spoke  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  those  of  his  com 


iS  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

panion.  He  distrusted  his  own  powers,  as  is  usual  witfc 
persons  of  real  merit,  but  he  felt  that  if  he  could  succeed 
in  making  his  convictions  penetrate  his  comrade's  obtuse 
mind,  their  exactitude  would  be  virtually  proved. 

"And  now,"  he  continued,  "what  would  you  say  if  I 
showed  you  that  this  young  man  had  received  an  excellent, 
even  refined  education." 

"  I  should  reply  that  it  was  very  extraordinary.  I  should 
reply  that — but  what  a  fool  I  am  !  You  have  not  proved 
it  to  me  yet." 

"  But  I  can  do  so  very  easily.  Do  you  remember  the 
words  that  he  uttered  as  he  fell  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  remember  them  perfectly.  He  said;  'It  is 
the  Prussians  who  are  coming.' " 

"  What  do  you  suppose  he  meant  by  that  ? " 

"  What  a  question  !  I  should  suppose  that  he  did  not 
like  the  Prussians,  and  that  he  supposed  he  was  offering 
us  a  terrible  insult." 

Lecoq  was  waiting  anxiously  for  this  response.  "  Ah, 
well ;  Father  Absinthe,"  he  said  gravely,  "  you  are  wrong, 
quite  wrong.  And  that  this  man  has  an  education  superior 
to  his  apparent  position  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  you  did 
not  understand  his  meaning,  nor  his  intention.  It  was 
this  single  phrase  that  enlightened  me." 

Father  Absinthe's  physiognomy  expressed  the  strange 
and  comical  perplexity  of  a  man  who  is  so  thoroughly 
mystified  that  he  knows  not  whether  to  laugh,  or  to  be 
angry.  After  reflecting  a  little,  he  decided  to  adopt  the 
latter  course.  "You  are  rather  too  young  to  impose 
upon  an  old  fellow  like  me,"  he  remarked.  "  I  don't  like 
boasters — " 

"  One  moment ! "  interrupted  Lecoq ;  "  allow  me  to 
explain.  You  have  certainly  heard  of  a  terrible  battle 
which  resulted  in  one  of  the  greatest  defeats  that  ever 
happened  to  France — the  battle  of  Waterloo  ?  " 

"  I  don't  see  the  connection — " 

"  Answer,  if  you  please." 

"  Yes — then  !  I  have  heard  of  it  I " 

"  Very  well ;  you  must  know  then  that  for  some  time 
victory  seemed  likely  to  rest  with  the  banners  of  France. 
The  English  began  to  fall  back,  and  the  emperor  already 
exclaimed :  "  We  have  them ! "  when  suddenly  on  the 
right,  a  little  in  the  rear,  a  large  body  of  troops  was  seer 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  19 

advancing.  It  was  the  Prussian  army.  The  battle  of 
Waterloo  was  lost." 

In  all  his  life,  worthy  Father  Absinthe  had  never 
made  such  a  strenuous  effort  to  understand  anything. 
In  this  case  his  perseverance  was  not  wholly  useless, 
for,  springing  from  his  stool,  and  probably  in  much  the 
same  tone  that  Archimedes  cried  "Eureka/"  he  ex« 
claimed,  "  I  understand.  The  man's  words  were  only 
an  illusion." 

"  It  is  as  you  have  said,"  remarked  Lecoq,  approvingly. 
"  But  I  had  not  finished.  If  the  emperor  was  thrown 
into  consternation  by  the  appearance  of  the  Prussians, 
it  was  because  he  was  momentarily  expecting  the  arrival 
of  one  of  his  own  generals  from  the  same  direction — 
Grouchy — with  thirty-five  thousand  men.  So  if  this  man's 
allusion  was  exact  and"  complete,  he  was  not  expecting 
an  enemy,  but  a  friend.  Now  draw  your  own  con- 
clusions." 

Father  Absinthe  was  amazed  but  convinced :  and  his 
eyes,  heavy  with  sleep  a  few  moments  before,  now  opened 
to  their  widest  extent.  "  Good  heavens  ! "  he  murmured, 
"  if  you  put  it  in  that  way  !  But  I  forget ;  you  must  have 
seen  something  as  you  were  looking  through  the  shutters." 

The  young  man  shook  his  head.  "  Upon  my  honour," 
he  declared,  "  I  saw  nothing  save  the  struggle  between 
the  murderer  and  the  poor  devil  dressed  as  a  soldier. 
It  was  that  sentence  alone  that  aroused  my  attention." 

"  Wonderful !  prodigious  1 "  exclaimed  the  astonished 
old  man. 

"  I  will  add  that  reflection  has  confirmed  my  suspicions. 
I  ask  myself  why  this  man,  instead  of  flying  at  once, 
should  have  waited  and  remained  there,  at  that  door, 
to  parley  with  us." 

With  a  bound,  Father  Absinthe  sprang  again  to  his 
feet.  "  Why  ? "  he  interrupted ;  "  because  he  had  accom- 
plices, and  he  wished  to  give  them  time  to  escape.  Ah  J 
I  understand  it  all  now." 

A  triumphant  smile  parted  Lecoq's  lips.  "That  is 
what  I  said  to  myself,"  he  replied,  "  and  now  it  is  easy 
to  verify  my  suspicions.  There  is  snow  outside,  isn't 
there  ? " 

It  was  not  necessary  to  say  any  more.  The  elder 
officer  seized  the  light,  and  followed  by  his  companion,  h« 


ao  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

hastened  to  the  back  door  of  the  house,  which  opened 
into  a  small  garden.  In  this  sheltered  enclosure  the 
snow  had  not  melted,  and  upon  its  white  surface  the 
dark  stains  of  numerous  foot-prints  presented  themselves. 
Without  hesitation,  Lecoq  threw  himself  upon  his  knees 
in  the  snow  ;  he  rose  again  almost  immediately.  "  These 
indentations  were  not  made  by  the  men's  feet,"  said 
he.  "  There  have  been  women  here." 


III. 

OBSTINATE  men  of  Father  Absinthe's  stamp,  who  are  at 
first  always  inclined  to  differ  from  other  people's  opinions, 
are  the  very  individuals  who  end  in  madly  adopting 
them.  When  an  idea  has  at  last  penetrated  their  empty 
brains,  they  twist  and  turn  it,  dwell  upon  it,  and  develop 
it  until  it  exceeds  the  bounds  of  reason. 

Hence,  the  police  veteran  was  now  much  more  strongly 
convinced  than  his  companion  that  the  usually  clever 
Gevrol  had  been  mistaken,  and  accordingly  he  laughed 
the  inspector  to  scorn.  On  hearing  Lecoq  affirm  that 
women  had  taken  part  in  the  horrible  scene  at  the 
Poiveriere,  his  joy  was  extreme — "  A  fine  affair  ! "  he 
exclaimed  ;  "  an  excellent  case  ! "  And  suddenly  recol- 
lecting a  maxim  that  has  been  handed  down  from  the 
time  of  Cicero,  he  added  in  sententious  tones  :  "  Who 
holds  the  woman  holds  the  cause  !  " 

Lecoq  did  not  deign  to  reply.  He  was  standing  upon 
the  threshold,  leaning  against  the  framework  of  the  door, 
his  hand  pressed  to  his  forehead,  as  motionless  as  a 
statue.  The  discovery -he  had  just  made,  and  which  so 
delighted  Father  Absinthe,  filled  him  with  consternation. 
It  was  the  death  of  his  hopes,  the  annihilation  of  the 
ingenious  structure  which  his  imagination  had  built  upon 
the  foundation  of  a  single  sentence.  There  was  no  longer 
any  mystery — ,  so  celebrity  was  not  to  be  gained  by  a 
brilliant  stroke  ! 

For  the  presence  of  two  women  in  this  vile  den  ex- 
plained everything  in  the  most  natural  and  commonplace 
fashion.  Their  presence  explained  the  quarrel,  the  testi- 
mony of  Widow  Chupin,  the  dying  declaration  of  the 
pretended  sold;.er.  The  behaviour  of  the  murderer  was 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  at 

also  explained.  He  had  remained  to  cover  the  retreat 
of  the  two  women ;  he  had  sacrificed  himself  in  order  to 
save  them,  an  act  of  gallantry  so  common  in  the  French 
character,  that  any  scoundrel  of  the  barrieres  might  have 
performed  it. 

Still,  the  strange  allusion  to  the  battle  of  Waterloo 
remained  unexplained.  But  what  did  that  prove  now? 
Nothing,  simply  nothing.  However,  who  could  say  hovr 
low  an  unworthy  passion  might  cause  a  man  even  of  birth 
and  breeding  to  descend  ?  And  the  carnival  afforded  an 
opportunity  for  the  parties  to  disguise  themselves. 

But  while  Lecoq  was  turning  and  twisting  all  these 
probabilities  in  his  mind,  Father  Absinthe  became  impa- 
tient. "  Are  we  going  to  remain  here  until  doomsday  ?  " 
he  asked.  "  Are  we  to  pause  just  at  the  moment  when 
our  search  has  been  productive  of  such  brilliant  results  ?  " 

"  Brilliant  results  ! "  These  words  stung  the  young 
man  as  deeply  as  the  keenest  irony  could  have  done. 
"  Leave  me  alone,"  he  replied,  gruffly ;  "  and,  above  all, 
don't  walk  about  the  garden,  as  by  doing  so,  you'll 
damage  any  foot-prints." 

His  companion  swore  a  little ;  but  soon  became  silent 
in  his  turn.  He  was  constrained  to  submit  to  the  irresisfr 
ible  ascendency  of  superior  will  and  intelligence. 

Lecoq  was  engaged  in  following  out  his  course  of  rea- 
soning. "  The  murderer,  leaving  the  ball  at  the  Rainbow, 
a  dancing-house  not  far  from  here,  near  the  fortifications, 
came  to  this  wine-shop,  accompanied  by  two  women.  He 
found  three  men  drinking  here,  who  either  began  teasing 
him,  or  who  displayed  too  much  gallantry  towards  his 
companions.  He  became  angry.  The  others  threatened 
him  ;  he  was  one  against  three  ;  he  was  armed ;  he  be- 
came wild  with  rage,  and  fired " 

He  checked  himself,  and  an  instant  after  added,  aloud: 
"  But  was  it  the  murderer  who  brought  these  v/omen 
here  ?  If  he  is  tried,  this  will  be  the  important  point. 
It  is  necessary  to  obtain  information  regarding  it." 

He  immediately  went  back  into  the  house,  closely  fol- 
lowed by  his  colleague,  and  began  an  examination  of  the 
foot-prints  round  about  the  door  that  Gevrol  had  forced 
open.  Labour  lost.  There  was  but  little  snow  on  the 
ground  near  the  entrance  of  the  hovel,  and  so  many 
persons  had  passed  in  and  out  that  Lecoq  could  discover 


as  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

nothing.  What  a  disappointment  after  his  patient  hopes ! 
Lecoq  could  have  cried  with  rage.  He  saw  the  oppor- 
tunity for  which  he  had  sighed  so  long  indefinitely 
postponed.  He  fancied  he  could  hear  Gevrol's  coarse 
sarcasms.  "  Enough  of  this,"  he  murmured,  under  his 
breath.  "  The  General  was  right,  and  I  am  a  fool !  " 

He  was  so  postively  convinced  that  one  could  do  no 
more  than  discover  the  circumstances  of  some  common- 
place, vulgar  broil,  that  he  began  to  wonder  if  it  would 
not  be  wise  to  renounce  his  search  and  take  a  nap,  while 
awaiting  the  coming  of  the  commissary  of  police. 

But  Father  Absinthe  was  no  longer  of  this  opinion. 
This  worthy  man,  who  was  far  from  suspecting  the  nature 
of  his  companion's  reflections  could  not  explain  his  inac- 
tion. "  Come !  my  boy,"  said  he,  "  have  you  lost  your 
wits  ?  This  is  losing  time,  it  seems  to  me.  The  authorities 
will  arrive  in  a  few  hours,  and  what  report  shall  we  be  able 
to  give  them !  As  for  me,  if  you  desire  to  go  to  sleep,  I 
shall  pursue  the  investigation  alone." 

Disappointed  as  he  was,  the  young  police  officer  couh 
not  repress  a  smile.  He  recognised  his  own  exhortation, 
of  a  few  moments  before.  It  was  the  old  man  who  had 
suddenly  become  intrepid.  "  To  work,  then !  "  he  sighed, 
like  a  man  who,  whilst  foreseeing  defeat,  wishes,  at  least, 
to  have  no  cause  for  self-reproach. 

He  found  it,  however,  extremely  difficult  to  follow  the 
foot-prints  in  the  open  air  by  the  uncertain  light  of  a 
candle,  which  was  extinguished  by  the  least  breath  of  wind. 
"I  wonder  if  there  :s  a  lr  cm  in  the  house,"  he  said. 
"  If  we  could  only  lay  our  hands  upon  one  ! " 

They  searched  everywhere,  and,  at  last,  upstairs  in  the 
Widow  Chupin's  own  room,  they  found  a  well-trimmed 
lantern,  so  small  and  compact  that  it  certainly  had  never 
been  intended  for  honest  purposes. 

"  A  regular  burglar's  implement,"  said  Father  Absinthe, 
with  a  coarse  laugh. 

The  implement  was  useful  in  any  case ;  as  both  men 
agreed  when  they  returned  to  the  garden  and  recommenced 
their  investigations  systematically.  They  advanced  very 
slowly  and  with  extreme  caution.  The  old  man  carefully 
held  the  lantern  in  the  best  position,  while  Lecoq,  on  his 
knees,  studied  each  foot-print  with  the  attention  of  a 
chiromancer  professing  to  read  the  future  in  the  hand  of  a 


MONSiEVR  LECOQ.  93 

rich  client.  This  new  examination  assured  Lecoq  that  he 
had  been  correct  in  his  first  suppositon.  It  was  plain  that 
two  women  had  left  the  Poivriere  by  the  back  door.  They 
had  started  off  running,  as  was  proved  by  the  length  of  the 
steps  and  the  shape  of  the  foot-prints. 

The  difference  in  the  tracks  left  by  the  two  fugitives  was 
so  remarkable  that  it  did  not  escape  Father  Absinthe's 
eyes.  "  Sapristi ! "  he  muttered  ;  "  one  of  these  jades  can 
boast  of  having  a  pretty  foot  at  the  end  of  her  leg  ! " 

He  was  right.  One  of  the  tracks  betrayed  a  small, 
coquettish,  slender  foot,  clad  in  an  elegant  high-heeled 
boot  with  a  narrow  sole  and  an  arched  instep.  The  other 
denoted  a  broad,  short  foot  growing  wider  towards  the  end. 
It  had  evidently  been  incased  in  a  strong,  low  shoe. 

This  was  indeed  a  clue.  Lecoq's  hopes  at  once  revived; 
so  eagerly  does  a  man  welcome  any  supposition  that  is  in 
accordance  with  his  desires.  Trembling  with  anxiety,  he 
went  to  examine  some  other  foot-prints  a  short  distance 
from  these ;  and  an  excited  exclamation  at  once  escaped 
his  lips. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  eagerly  inquired  the  other  agent :  "  what 
do  you  see  ? " 

"  Come  and  look  for  yourself,  see  there  1  "  cried  Lecoq. 

The  old  man  bent  down,  and  his  surprise  was  so 
great  that  he  almost  dropped  the  lantern.  "  Oh  ! "  said  he 
in  a  stifled  voice,  "  a  man's  foot-print !  " 

"  Exactly.  And  this  fellow  wore  the  finest  of  boots. 
See  that  imprint,  how  clear,  how  neat  it  is  ! " 

Worthy  Father  Absinthe  was  scratching  his  ear  furiously, 
his  usual  method  of  quickening  his  rather  slow  wits.  "  But 
it  seems  to  me,"  he  ventured  to  say  at  last,  "  that  this  in- 
dividual was  not  coming  from  this  ill-fated  hovel. 

"  Of  course  not ;  the  direction  of  the  foot  tells  you  that. 
No,  he  was  not  going  away,  he  was  coming  here.  But  he 
did  not  pass  beyond  the  spot  where  we  are  now  standing. 
He  was  standing  on  tip-toe  with  out-stretched  neck  and 
listening  ears,  when,  on  reaching  this  spot,  he  heard  some 
noise,  fear  seized  him,  and  he  fled." 

"  Or  rather,  the  women  were  going  out  as  he  was  com- 
ing, and — " 

"  No,  the  women  were  outside  the  garden  when  he  en- 
tered it." 

This  assertion  seemed  far  too  audacious  to  suit  Lecoq'i 


24  MONSIEUR  LECOQ, 

companion,  who  remarked: — "One  cannot  be  sure  of 
that." 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,  however ;  and  can  prove  it  conclu* 
sively.  If  you  doubt  it,  it  is  because  your  eyes  are  grow- 
ing old.  Bring  your  lantern  a  little  nearer — yes,  here  it  is 
— our  man  placed  his  large  foot  upon  one  of  the  marks 
made  by  the  woman  with  the  small  foot  and  almost  effaced 
it."  This  unexceptionable  piece  of  circumstantial  evidence 
stupefied  the  old  police-agent. 

"  Now,"  continued  Lecoq,  "  could  this  man  have  been 
the  accomplice  whom  the  murderer  was  expecting  ?  Might 
it  not  have  been  some  strolling  vagrant  whose  attention 
was  attracted  by  the  two  pistol  shots  ?  This  is  what  we 
must  ascertain.  And  we  will  ascertain  it.  Come  !  " 

A  wooden  fence  of  lattice-work,  rather  more  than  three 
feet  high,  was  all  that  separated  the  Widow  Chupin's  gar- 
den from  the  waste  land  surrounding  it.  When  Lecoq 
made  the  circuit  of  the  house  to  cut  off  the  murderer's  es- 
cape he  had  encountered  this  obstacle,  and,  fearing  lest 
he  should  arrive  too  late,  he  had  leaped  the  fence  to  the 
great  detriment  of  his  pantaloons,  without  even  asking 
himself  if  there  was  a  gate  or  not.  There  was  one,  how- 
ever— a  light  gate  of  lattice-work  similar  to  the  fence, 
turning  upon  iron  hinges,  and  closed  by  a  wooden  button. 
Now  it  was  straight  towards  this  gate  that  these  footprints 
in  the  snow  led  to  the  two  police-agents.  Some  new 
thought  must  have  struck  the  younger  man,  for  he  sud- 
denly paused.  "  Ah  ! "  he  murmured,  "  these  two  women 
did  not  come  to  the  Poivriere  this  evening  for  the  first 
time." 

"  Why  do  you  think  that,  my  boy  ? "  inquired  Fathei 
Absinthe. 

"  I  could  almost  swear  it.  How,  unless  they  were  in 
the  habit  of  coming  to  this  den,  could  they  have  been 
aware  of  the  existence  of  this  gate  ?  Could  they  have  dis- 
covered it  on  such  a  dark,  foggy  night  ?  No ;  for  I,  who 
can,  without  boasting,  say  that  I  have  good  eyes>— I  did 
not  see  it." 

"  Ah  !  yes,  that  is  true  ! " 

"  These  two  women,  however,  came  here  without  hesi- 
tating, in  a  straight  line ;  and  note  that  to  do  this,  it  was 
necessary  for  them  to  cross  the  garden  diagonally." 

The  veteran  would  have  give  something  if  he  could  have 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  JJ 

found  some  objection  to  offer ;  but  unfortunately  he  could 
find  none.  "  Upon  my  word  ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  yours  is  a 
droll  way  of  proceeding.  You  are  only  a  conscript ;  I  am 
a  veteran  in  the  service,  and  have  assisted  in  more  affairs 
of  this  sort  than  you  are  years  old,  but  never  have  I 
seen — " 

"  Nonsense  !  "  interrupted  Lecoq,  "  you  will  see  much 
more.  For  example,  I  can  prove  to  you  that  although  the 
wometi  knew  the  exact  position  of  the  gate,  the  man  knew 
it  only  by  hearsay." 

"  The  proof ! "' 

"The  fact  is  easily  demonstrated.  Study  the  man's 
foot-prints,  and  you,  who  are  very  sharp,  will  see  at  once 
that  he  deviated  greatly  from  the  straight  course.  He  was 
in  such  doubt,  that  he  was  obliged  to  search  for  the  gate 
with  his  hand  stretched  out  before  him — and  his  fingers 
have  left  their  imprint  on  the  thin  covering  of  snow  that 
lies  upon  the  upper  railing  of  the  fence." 

The  old  man  would  have  been  glad  to  verify  this  state- 
ment for  himself,  as  he  said,  but  Lecoq  was  in  a  hurry. 
"  Let  us  go  on,  let  us  go  on !  "  said  he.  "  You  can  verify 
my  assertions  some  other  time." 

They  left  the  garden  and  followed  the  foot-prints  which 
led  them  towards  the  outer  boulevards,  inclining  somewhat 
in  the  direction  of  the  Rue  de  Patay.  There  was  now  no 
longer  any  need  of  close  attention.  No  one  save  the  fu- 
gitives had  crossed  this  lonely  waste  since  since  the  last 
fall  of  snow.  A  child  could  have  followed  the  track,  so 
clear  and  distinct  it  was.  Four  series  of  foot-prints,  very 
unlike  in  character,  formed  the  track ;  two  of  these  had 
evidently  been  left  by  the  women ;  the  other  two,  one 
going  and  one  returning,  had  been  made  by  the  man.  On 
several  occasions  the  latter  had  placed  his  foot  exactly  on 
the  foot-prints  left  by  the  two  women,  half  effacing  them, 
thus  dispelling  all  doubt  as  to  the  precise  moment  of  his 
approach. 

About  a  hundred  yards  from  the  Poivriere,  Lecoq  sud- 
denly seized  his  colleague's  arm.  "  Halt !  "  he  exclaimed, 
"  we  have  reached  a  good  place  ;  I  can  see  unmistakable 
proofs." 

The  spot,  all  unenclosed  as  it  was,  was  evidently  utilised 
by  some  builder  for  the  storage  of  various  kinds  of  lumber. 
The  ground  was  strewn  with  large  blocks  of  granite,  some 


«6  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

chiselled,  some  in  the  rough,  with  numerous  long  planks 
and  logs  of  wood  in  their  midst.  In  front  of  one  these 
logs,  the  surface  of  which  had  been  evidently  wiped,  all 
the  various  foot-prints  came  together,  mingling  confusedly, 

"  Here,"  declared  the  young  detective,  "  our  fugitives 
met  the  man  and  took  counsel  with  him.  One  of  the  wo- 
men, the  one  with  the  little  feet,  sat  down  upon  this  log." 

"  We  ought  to  make  quite  sure  of  that,"  said  Father  Ab- 
sinthe, in  an  oracular  tone. 

But  his  companion  cut  short  his  desire  for  verification. 
"  You,  my  old  friend,"  said  he,  "  are  going  to  do  me  the 
kindness  to  keep  perfectly  still :  pass  me  the  lantern  and 
do  not  move." 

Lecoq's  modest  tone  had  suddenly  become  so  imperious 
that  his  colleague  dared  offer  no  resistance.  Like  a  sol- 
dier at  the  command  to  halt,  he  remained  erect,  motion- 
less, and  mute,  following  his  colleague's  movements  with 
an  inquisitive,  wondering  eye. 

Quick  in  his  motions,  and  understanding  how  to  ma- 
noeuvre the  lantern  in  accordance  with  his  wishes,  the 
young  police-agent  explored  the  surroundings  in  a  very 
short  space  of  time.  A  bloodhound  in  pursuit  of  his  prey 
would  have  been  less  alert,  less  discerning,  less  agile.  He 
came  and  went,  now  turning,  now  pausing,  now  retreating, 
now  hurrying  on  again  without  any  apparent  reason  ;  he 
scrutinised,  he  questioned  every  surrounding  object :  the 
ground,  the  logs  of  wood,  the  blocks  of  stone,  in  a  word, 
nothing  escaped  his  glance.  For  a  moment  he  would  re- 
main standing,  then  fall  upon  his  knees,  and  at  times  lie 
flat  upon  his  stomach  with  his  face  so  near  the  ground  that 
^is  breath  must  have  melted  the  snow.  He  had  drawn  a 
tape-line  from  his  pocket,  and  using  it  with  a  carpenter's 
dexterity,  he  measured,  measured,  and  measured. 

And  all  his  movements  were  accompanied  with  the  wild 
gestures  of  a  madman,  interspersed  with  oaths  or  short 
laughs,,  with  exclamations  of  disappointment  or  delight. 
After  a  quarter  of  an  hour  of  this  strange  exercise,  he 
turned  to  Father  Absinthe,  placed  the  lantern  on  a  stone, 
wiped  his  hands  with  his  pocket-handkerchief,  and  said  : 
"  Now  I  know  everything !  " 

"  Well,  that  is  saying  a  great  deal !  " 

"  When  I  say  everything,  I  mean  all  that  is  connected 
with  the  episode  of  the  drama  which  ended  in  that  bloody 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  *j 

bout  in  the  hovel.  This  expanse  of  earth  covered  with 
snow,  is  a  white  page  upon  which  the  people  we  are  in 
search  of  have  written,  not  only  their  movements,  their 
goings,  and  comings,  but  also  their  secret  thoughts,  their 
alternate  hopes  and  anxieties.  What  do  these  foot-prints 
say  to  you,  Papa  Absinthe  ?  To  me  they  are  alive  like 
the  persons  who  made  them  ;  they  breathe,  speak,  accuse  !  " 

The  old  agent  was  saying  to  himself :  "  Certainly,  this 
fellow  is  intelligent,  undeniably  shrewd  ;  but  he  is  very  dis- 
agreeable." 

"  These  are  the  facts  as  I  have  read  them,"  pursued^ 
Lecoq.     "  When  the  murderer  repaired  to  the  Poivriere 
with  the  two  women,  his  companion — I  should  say  his  ac- 
complice—came here  to  wait.     He  was  a  tall  man  of  mid-    ; 
die  age  ;  he  wore  a  soft  hat  and  a  shaggy  brown  overcoat ;    ' 
he  was,  moreover,  probably  married,  or  had  been  so,  as  he 
had  a  wedding-ring  on  the  little  finger  of  his  right  hand — -"/ 

His  companion's  despairing  gestures  obliged  the  speaker^ 
to  pause.  This  description  of  a  person  whose  existence 
had  but  just  now  been  demonstrated,  these  precise  details 
given  in  a  tone  of  absolute  certainty,  completely  upset  all 
Father  Absinthe's  ideas,  increasing  his  perplexity  beyond 
all  bounds. 

"  This  is  not  right,"  he  growled,  "  this  is  not  kind.  You 
are  poking  fun  at  me.  I  take  the  thing  seriously ;  I  listen 
to  you,  I  obey  you  in  everything,  and  then  you  mock  me 
in  this  way.  We  find  a  clue,  and  instead  of  following  it 
up,  you  stop  to  relate  all  these  absurd  stories." 

"  No,"  replied  his  companion,  "  I  am  not  jesting,  and  I 
have  told  you  nothing  of  which  I  am  not  absolutely  sure, 
nothing  that  is  not  strictly  and  indisputably  true." 

"  And  you  would  have  me  believe — " 

"  Fear  nothing,  papa  ;  I  would  not  have  you  do  violence 
to  your  convictions.  When  I  have  told  you  my  reasons, 
and  my  means  of  information,  you  will  laugh  at  the  sim- 
plicity of  the  theory  that  seems  so  incomprehensible  to  you 
now." 

"  Go  on,  then,"  said  the  good  man,  in  a  tone  of  resigna- 
tion. 

"We  had  decided,"  rejoined  Lecoq,  "that  the  accom- 
plice mounted  guard  here.  The  time  seemed  long,  and 
growing  impatient,  he  paced  to  and  fro — the  length  of  this 
log  of  wood — occasionally  pausing  to  listen.  Hearing 


<S  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

nothing,  he  stamped  his  foot,  doubtless  exclaiming  :  4  Wha( 
the  deuce  has  happened  to  him  down  there  ! '  He  had 
made  about  thirty  turns  (I  have  counted  them),  when  a 
sound  broke  the  stillness — the  two  women  were  coming." 

On  hearing  Lecoq's  recital,  all  the  conflicting  sentiments 
that  are  awakened  in  a  child's  mind  by  a  fairy  tale — doubt, 
faith,  anxiety,  and  hope — filled  Father  Absinthe's  heart. 
What  should  he  believe  ?  what  should  he  refuse  to  believe  ? 
He  did  not  know.  How  was  he  to  separate  the  true  from 
the  false  among  all  these  equally  surprising  assertions  ? 
On  the  other  hand,  the  gravity  of  his  companion,  which 
certainly  was  not  feigned,  dismissed  all  idea  of  pleasantry. 

Finally,  curiosity  began  to  torture  him.  "  We  had  reached 
the  point  where  the  women  made  their    appearance,' 
said  he. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  responded  Lecoq,  "  but  here  all  certainty 
ceases ;  no  more  proofs,  only  suppositions.  Still,  I  have 
every  reason  to  believe  that  our  fugitives  left  the  drinking 
den  before  the  beginning  of  the  fight,  before  the  cries  that 
attracted  our  attention.  Who  were  they  ?  I  can  only 
conjecture.  I  suspect,  however,  that  they  were  not  equals 
in  rank.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  one  was  the  mistress, 
the  other  her  servant." 

"  That  is  proved,"  ventured  the  old  man,  "  by  the  great 
difference  in  their  feet  and  in  their  shoes." 

This  shrewd  observation  elicited  a  smile  from  Lecoq. 
"  That  difference,"  he  replied,  seriously,  "  is  something  of 
course  ;  but  it  was  not  that  which  decided  me  in  my  opin- 
ion. If  greater  or  less  perfection  of  the  extremities 
regulated  social  distinctions,  many  mistresses  would  be 
servants.  What  struck  me  was  this  :  When  the  two  wo- 
men rushed  wildly  from  Mother  Chupin's  house,  th? 
woman  with  the  small  feet  sprang  across  the  garden  with 
one  bound,  she  darted  on  some  distance  In  advance  of  the 
other.  The  terror  of  the  situation,  the  vileness  of  the  den, 
the  horror  of  the  scandal,  the  thought  of  safety,  inspired 
her  with  marvellous  energy.  But  her  strength,  as  often 
happens  with  delicate  and  nervous  women,  lasted  only  a 
few  seconds.  She  was  not  half-way  from  the  Poivriere 
when  her  speed  relaxed,  her  limbs  trembled.  Ten  steps 
farther  on  she  tottered  and  almost  fell.  Some  steps  far 
ther,  and  she  became  so  exhausted  that  she  let  go  her  hold 
upon  her  skirts ;  they  trailed  upon  the  snow,  tracing  9 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  29 

faint  circle  there.  Then  the  woman  with  the  bioad  feet 
came  to  aid  her.  She  seized  her  companion  round  the 
waist ;  she  dragged  her  along ;  their  foot-prints  here  are 
mingled  confusedly ;  then,  seeing  that  her  friend  was  about 
to  fall,  she  caught  her  up  in  her  strong  arms  and  carried 
her — for  you  will  see  that  the  foot-prints  made  by  the  wo- 
man with  the  small  feet  suddenly  cease  at  this  point." 

Was  Lecoq  merely  amusing  himself  by  inventing  this 
story  ?  Was  this  scene  anything  but  a  work  of  imagina- 
tion ?  Was  the  accent  of  deep  and  sincere  conviction  which 
he  imparted  to  his  words  only  feigned  ? 

Father  Absinthe  was  still  in  doubt,  but  he  thought  of  a 
way  in  which  he  might  satisfy  his  uncertainty.  He  caught 
up  the  lantern  and  hurried  off  to  examine  these  foot-prints 
which  he  had  not  known  how  to  read,  which  had  been 
speechless  to  him,  but  which  yielded  their  secret  to  an- 
other. He  was  obliged  to  agree  with  his  companion.  All 
that  Lecoq  had  described  was  written  there ;  he  saw  the 
confused  foot- prints,  the  circle  made  by  the  sweeping  skirts, 
the  cessation  of  the  tiny  imprints. 

On  his  return,  his  countenance  betrayed  a  respectful 
and  astonished  admiration,  and  it  was  with  a  shade  of  em- 
barrassment that  he  said  :  "  You  can  scarcely  blame  an 
old  man  for  being  a  little  like  St.  Thomas.  '  I  have 
touched  it  with  my  fingers,'  and  now  I  am  content  to  fol- 
low you." 

The  young  police-agent  could  not,  indeed,  blame  his 
colleague  for  his  incredulity.  Resuming  his  recital  he 
continued  :  "  Then  the  accomplice,  who  had  heard  the 
fugitive  coming,  ran  to  meet  them,  and  he  aided  the  wo- 
man with  large  feet  in  carrying  her  companion.  The 
latter  must  have  been  really  ill,  for  the  accomplice  took 
off  his  hat  and  used  it  in  brushing  the  snow  off  this  log. 
Then,  thinking  the  surface  was  not  yet  dry  enough,  he 
wiped  ft  with  the  skirt  of  his  overcoat.  Were  these  civil- 
ities pure  gallantry,  or  the  usual  attentions  of  an  inferior  ? 
I  have  asked  myself  that  question.  This  much,  however, 
is  certain,  while  the  woman  with  the  small  feet  was  recov- 
ering her  strength,  half-reclining  upon  this  board,  the  other 
took  the  accomplice  a  little  on  one  side,  five  or  six  steps 
away  to  the  left,  just  beside  that  enormous  block  of  gran- 
ite. There  she  talked  with  him,  and,  as  he  listened,  the 
man  leant  upon  the  snow-covered  stone.  His  hand  left  a 


30  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

very   distinct   imprint  there.    Then,  as  the  conversation 
continued,  he  rested  his  elbow  upon  the  snowy  surface." 

Like  all  men  of  limited  intelligence,  Father  Absinthe 
had  suddenly  passed  from  unreasoning  distrust  to  unques- 
tioning confidence.  Henceforth,  he  could  believe  anything 
for  the  very  same  reason  that  had,  at  first,  made  him  believe 
nothing.  Having  no  idea  of  the  bounds  of  human  reasoning, 
and  penetration,  he  saw  no  limits  to  the  conjectural  genius  of 
his  companion.  With  perfect  faith,  therefore,  he  inquired  : 
"  And  what  was  the  accomplice  saying  to  the  woman  with 
the  broad  shoes  ? " 

Lecoq  smiled  at  this  simplicity,  but  the  other  did  not 
see  him  do  so.  "  It  is  rather  difficult  for  me  to  answer 
that  question,"  replied  the  young  detective,  "  I  think,  how 
ever,  that  the  woman  was  explaining  to  the  man  the 
immensity  and  imminence  of  the  danger  that  threatened  his 
companion,  and  that  they  were  trying  to  devise  some 
means  to  rescue  him  from  it.  Perhaps  she  brought  him 
orders  given  by  the  murderer.  It  is  certain  that  she  ended 
by  beseeching  the  accomplice  to  run  to  the  Poivriere  and 
see  what  was  passing  there.  And  he  did  so,  for  his  tracks 
start  from  this  block  of  granite." 

"  And  only  to  think,"  exclaimed  Father  Absinthe,  "  that 
we  were  in  the  hovel  at  that  very  moment.  A  word  from 
Gevrol,  and  we  might  of  had  handcuffs  on  the  whole  gang ! 
How  unfortunate  ! " 

Lecoq  was  not  sufficiently  disinterested  to  share  his 
companion's  regret.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  very  thank- 
ful for  Gevrol's  blunder.  Had  it  not  been  for  that,  how 
would  he  ever  have  found  an  opportunity  of  investigating 
an  affair  thai  grew  more  and  more  mysterious  as  his  search 
proceeded,  but  which  he  hoped  to  fathom  finally. 

"  To  conclude,"  he  resumed,  "  the  accomplice  soon  re- 
turned, he  had  witnessed  the  scene,  and  was  evidently 
afraid.  He  feared  that  the  thought  of  exploring  the  prem- 
ises might  enter  the  minds  of  the  police.  It  was  to  the 
lady  with  small  feet  that  he  addressed  himself.  He  ex- 
plained the  necessity  of  flight,  and  told  her  that  even  a 
moment's  delay  might  be  fatal.  At  his  words,  she  sum- 
moned all  her  energy;  she  rose  and  hastened  away, 
clinging  to  the  arm  of  her  companion.  Did  the  man 
indicate  the  route  they  were  to  take,  or  did  they  know  it 
themselves  ?  This  much  is  certain,  he  accompanied  them 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  y 

some  distance,  in  order  to  watch  over  them.  But  besides 
protecting  these  women,  he  had  a  still  more  sacred  duty  to 
perform — that  of  succouring  his  accomplice,  if  possible. 
He  retraced  his  steps,  passed  by  here  once  more,  and  the 
last  foot-print  that  I  can  discover  leads  in  the  direction  of 
the  Rue  du  Chateau-des  Rentiers.  He  wished  to  know 
what  would  become  of  the  murderer,  and  went  to  place 
himself  where  he  might  see  him  pass  by  with  his  captors. 

Like  a  dilettante  who  can  scarcely  restrain  his  applause 
until  the  close  of  the  aria  that  delights  him,  Father  Absin- 
the had  been  unable  during  the  recital  to  entirely  suppress 
his  admiration.  But  it  was  not  until  Lecoq  ceased  speak- 
ing that  he  gave  full  vent  to  his  enthusiasm,  "  Here  is  a 
detective  if  you  like  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  And  they  pretend 
that  Gevrol  is  a  shrewd !  What  has  he  ever  done  to 
compare  with  this  ?  Ah  !  shall  I  tell  you  what  I  think  ? 
Why,  in  comparison  with  you,  the  General  is  a  mere  John 
the  Baptist." 

Certainly  the  flattery  was  gross,  but  it  was  Impossible  to 
doubt  its  sincerity.  This  was  the  first  time  that  the  balmy 
dew  of  praise  had  fallen  upon  Lecoq's  vanity,  and  it 
greatly  delighted  him  although  he  modestly  replied,  '*  Non- 
sense, you  are  too  kind,  papa.  After  all,  what  have  I  done 
that  is  so  very  clever  ?  I  told  you  that  the  man  was  of 
middle  age.  It  was  not  difficult  to  see  that  after  one  had 
examined  his  heavy,  dragging  step.  I  told  you  that  he 
was  tall — an  easy  matter.  When  I  saw  that  he  had  been 
leaning  upon  that  block  of  granite  there  to  the  left,  I 
measured  the  block  in  question.  It  is  almost  five  feet  five 
inches  in  height,  consequently,  a  man  who  could  rest  his 
elbow  upon  it  must  be  at  least  six  feet  high.  The  mark  of 
his  hand  proves  that  I  am  not  mistaken.  On  seeing  that 
he  had  brushed  away  the  snow  which  covered  the  plank,  I 
asked  myself  what  he  had  used  ;  I  thought  that  it  might  be 
his  cap,  and  the  mark  left  by  the  peak  proves  that  I  was 
right.  Finally,  if  I  have  discovered  the  colour  and  the 
material  of  his  overcoat,  it  is  only  because  when  he  wiped 
the  wet  board,  some  splinters  of  the  wood  tore  off  a  few 
tiny  flakes  of  brown  wool,  which  I  have  found,  and  which 
will  figure  in  the  trial.  But  what  does  this  amount  to, 
after  all  ?  Nothing.  We  have  only  discovered  the  first 
clues  of  the  affair.  Still,  we  are  on  the  right  scent — so, 
forward  then  I  ° 


3«  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

The  old  officer  was  electrified,  and,  like  an  echo,  he 
repeated :  "  Forward  1 " 

IV. 

THAT  night  the  vagabonds,  who  had  taken  refuge  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Poivriere,  had  a  very  bad  time  of  it ; 
for  while  those  who  managed  to  sleep  were  disturbed  by 
frightful  dreams  of  a  police  raid,  those  who  remained 
awake  witnessed  some  strange  incidents,  well  calculated  to 
fill  their  minds  with  terror.  On  hearing  the  shots  fired 
inside  Mother  Chupin's  drinking  den,  most  of  the  vagrants 
concluded  that  there  had  been  a  collision  between  the 
police  and  some  of  their  comrades,  and  they  immediately 
began  prowling  about,  eagerly  listening  and  watching,  and 
ready  to  take  flight  at  the  least  sign  of  danger.  At  first 
they  could  discover  no  particular  reasons  for  alarm.  But 
later  on,  at  a  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  just  as  they 
were  beginning  to  feel  secure  again,  the  fog  lifted  a  little, 
and  they  witnessed  a  phenomenon  well  calculated  to  arouse 
anxiety. 

Upon  the  unoccupied  tract  of  land,  which  the  people  of 
the  neighborhood  called  the  "  plain,"  a  small  but  very 
bright  light  was  seen  describing  the  most  capricious  evolu- 
tions. It  moved  here  and  there  without  any  apparent  aim, 
tracing  the  most  inexplicable  zigzags,  sometimes  sinking  to 
the  earth,  sometimes  rising  to  a  height  of  four  or  five  feet 
at  others  remaining  quite  motionless,  and  the  next  second 
flying  off  like  a  ball.  In  spite  of  the  place  and  the  season 
of  the  year,  the  less  ignorant  among  vagabonds  believed 
the  light  to  be  some  ignis-fatuus,  one  of  those  luminous 
meteors  that  rise  from  the  marshes  and  float  about  in  the 
atmosphere  at  the  bidding  of  the  wind.  In  point  of  fact, 
however,  this  ignis-fatuus  was  the  lantern  by  the  light  01 
which  the  two  police-agents  were  pursuing  their  investiga 
tions. 

After  thus  suddenly  revealing  his  capacity  to  his  first  disci- 
ple, Lecoq  found  himself  involved  in  a  cruel  perplexity. 
He  had  not  the  boldness  and  promptness  of  decision  which 
is  the  gift  of  a  prosperous  past,  and  was  hesitating  between 
two  courses,  both  equally  reasonable,  and  both  offering 
strong  probabilities  of  success.  He  stood  between  two  paths, 
that  made  by  the  two  women  on  the  one  side,  and  that  made 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  33 

by  the  accomplice  on  the  other.  Which  should  he  take  ? 
For  he  could  not  hope  to  follow  both.  Seated  upon  the 
the  log  where  the  women  had  rested  a  few  moments  be- 
fore, with  his  hand  pressed  upon  his  forehead,  he  reflected 
and  weighed  the  chances. 

"  If  I  follow  the  man  I  shall  learn  nothing  that  I  do  not 
know  already.  He  has  gone  to  hover  round  the  party ;  he 
has  followed  them  at  a  distance,  he  has  seen  them  lock  up 
his  accomplice,  and  he  is  undoubtedly  prowling  round 
about  the  station  house.  If  I  hurried  in  pursuit  could  I 
hope  overtake  and  capture  him  ?  No  ;  too  long  a  time  has 
elapsed." 

Father  Absinthe  listened  to  this  monologue  with  intense 
curiosity,  as  anxious  as  'an  unsophisticated  person  who, 
having  questioned  a  clairvoyant  in  regard  to  some  lost 
articles,  is  Waiting  the  oracle's  response. 

"  To  follow  the  women,"  continued  the  young  man,  "  to 
what  would  that  lead  ?  Perhaps  to  an  important  discovery, 
perhaps  to  nothing." 

However,  he  preferred  the  unknown,  which,  with  all  its 
chances  of  failure,  had  chances  of  success  as  well.  He 
rose,  his  course  was  decided. 

"  Father  Absinthe,"  said  he,  "  we  are  going  to  follow  the 
foot-prints  of  these  two  women,  and  wherever  they  lead  us 
we  will  go." 

Inspired  with  equal  ardour  they  began  their  walk.  At 
the  end  af  the  path  upon  which  they  had  entered  they  fan- 
cied they  observed,  as  in  some  magic  glass,  the  one  the 
fruits,  the  other  the  glory  of  success.  They  hurried  for- 
ward. At  first  it  was  only  play  to  follow  the  distinct  foot- 
prints that  led  towards  the  Seine.  But  it  was  not  long  be- 
fore they  were  obliged  to  proceed  more  slowly. 

On  leaving  the  waste  ground  they  arrived  at  the  outer 
limits  of  civilization,  so  to  speak  :  and  strange  foot-prints 
mingled  constantly  with  the  foot-prints  of  the  fugitives,  at 
times  even  effacing  them.  In  many  spots,  either  on 
account  of  exposure  or  the  nature  of  the  soil,  the  thaw  had 
completed  its  work,  and  there  were  large  patches  of  ground 
entirely  free  from  snow.  In  such  cases  they  lost  the  trail, 
and  it  required  all  Lecoq's  sagacity,  and  all  his  compan- 
ion's good-will,  to  find  it  again. 

On  such  occasions  Father  Absinthe  planted  his  cane  in 
the  earth,  near  the  last  foot-print  that  had  been  discovered, 

3 


34  MONSIEUR  LECOQ* 

and  Lecoq  and  himself  hunted  all  over  the  ground  around 
this  point,  much  after  the  fashion  of  a  couple  of  blood- 
hounds, thrown  off  the  scent.  Then  it  was  that  the  Ian 
tern  moved  about  so  strangely.  More  than  a  dozen  times, 
in  spite  of  all  their  efforts,  they  would  have  lost  the  clue 
entirely  had  it  not  been  for  the  elegant  shoes  worn  by  the 
lady  with  the  little  feet.  These  had  such  small  and 
extremely  high  heels  that  the  impression  they  left  could 
not  be  mistaken.  They  sank  down  three  or  four  inches 
in  the  snow,  or  the  mud,  and  their  tell-tale  impress 
remained  as  clear  and  distinct  as  that  of  a  seal. 

Thanks  to  these  heels,  the  pursuers  were  able  to  dis- 
cover that  the  two  fugitives  had  not  gone  up  the  Rue  de 
Patay,  as  might  have  been  supposed.  Probably  they  had 
considered  this  street  too  frequented,  and  too  well  lighted. 
They  had  only  crossed  it,  just  below  the  Rue  de  la  Croix- 
Rouge,  and  had  profited  by  an  empty  space  between  two 
houses  to  regain  the  open  ground. 

"  Certainly  these  women  were  well  acquainted  with  the 
locality,"  murmured  Lecoq. 

Indeed  the  topography  of  the  district  evidently  had  no 
secrets  for  them,  for,  on  quitting  the  Rue  de  Patay,  they 
had  immediately  turned  to  the  right,  so  as  to  avoid  several 
large  excavations,  from  which  a  quantity  of  brick  clay  had 
been  dug. 

But  at  last  the  trail  was  recovered,  and  the  detectives 
followed  it  as  far  as  the  Rue  du  Chevaleret.  Here  the 
foot-prints  abruptly  ceased.  Lecoq  discovered  eight  or 
ten  foot-marks  left  by  the  woman  who  wore  the  broad 
shoes,  but  that  was  all.  Hereabouts,  moreover,  the  con 
dition  of  the  ground  was  not  calculated  to  facilitate  an 
exploration  of  this  nature.  There  had  been  a  great  deal  of 
passing  to  and  fro  in  the  Rue  du  Chevaleret,  and  not  merely 
was  there  scarcely  any  snow  left  on  the  footpaths,  but  the 
middle  of  the  street  was  transformed  into  a  river  of  slush. 

"  Did  these  people  recollect  at  last  that  the  snow  might 
betray  them  ?  Did  they  take  the  middle  of  the  road  ?  " 
grumbled  the  young  police  agent. 

Certainly  they  could  not  have  crossed  to  a  vacant  space 
as  they  had  done  just  before,  for  on  the  other  side  of 
the  street  extended  a  long  factory  wall. 

"  Ah  J  "  sighed  Father  Absinthe,  "  we  have  our  labour  foi 
our  pains." 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ*  35 

But  Lecoq  possessed  a  temperament  that  refused  to  ac- 
knowledge defeat.  Animated  by  the  cold  anger  of  a  man 
who  sees  the  object  which  he  was  about  to  seize  disappeat 
from  before  his  eyes,  he  recommenced  his  search,  and  was 
well  repaid  for  his  efforts. 

"  I  understand ! "  he  cried  suddenly,  "  I  comprehend — I 
see ! " 

Father  Absinthe  drew  near.  He  did  not  see  nor  divine 
anything !  but  he  no  longer  doubted  his  companion's 
powers. 

*'  Look  there,"  said  Lecoq  ;  "  what  are  those  marks  ? " 

'•'  Marks  left  by  the  wheels  of  some  carriage  that  plainly 
turned  here." 

"Very  well,  papa,  these  tracks  explain  everything. 
When  they  reached  this  spot,  our  fugitives  saw  the  light 
of  an  approaching  cab,  which  was  returning  from  the 
centre  of  Paris.  It  was  empty,  and  proved  their  salvation. 
They  waited,  and  when  it  came  nearer  they  hailed  the 
driver.  No  doubt  they  promised  him  a  handsome  fare ; 
this  is  indeed  evident,  since  he  consented  to  go  back  again. 
He  turned  round  here  ;  they  got  into  the  vehicle,  and  that 
is  why  the  foot-prints  go  no  further." 

This  explanation  did  not  please  Lecoq's  companion. 
"  Have  we  made  any  great  progress  now  that  we  know 
that  ?  "  he  asked. 

Lecoq  could  not  restrain  an  impulse  to  shrug  his  shoul- 
ders.    "  Did  you  expect  that  the  tracks  made  by  the  fugi- 
tives would  lead  us  through  Paris  and  up  to  their  very 
doors  ? "  he  asked. 
:    "No;  but— " 

"  Then  what  would  you  ask  more  ?     Do  you  think  that7) 
I  shall  not  know  how  to  find  this  driver  to-morrow  ?     He 
was  returning  with  his  empty  vehicle,  his  day's  work  was 
ended ;  hence,  his  stable  is  in  the  neighbourhood.     Do 
you  suppose  that  he  will  have  forgotten  that  he  took  up  \ 
two  persons  in  the  Rue  du  Chevaleret  ?     He  will  tell  us  I 
where  he  drove  them  ,  but  that  will  not  do  us  any  good,  I 
for  of  course,  they  will  not  have  given  him  their  real  ad- 
dress.    But  at  all  events  he  can  probably  give  us  a  descrip-  / 
tion  of  them,  tell  us  how  they  were  dressed,  describe  their 
appearance,  their  manner,  and  their  age.     And  with  that,  j 
and  what  we  already  know — " 

An  eloquent  gesture  expressed  the  remainder  of  his 


36  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

thought ,  then  he  added  : — "  We  must  now  go  back  to  the 
Poivriere,  and  go  quickly.  And  you,  my  friend,  may  now 
extinguish  your  lantern." 

While  doing  his  best  to  keep  pace  with  his  companion, 
who  was  in  such  haste  to  get  back  to  the  Poivriere  that  he 
almost  ran,  Father  Absinthe's  thoughts  were  as  busy  as 
his  legs,  and  an  entirely  new  train  of  ideas  was  awakened 
in  his  mind. 

During  the  twenty-five  years  that  he  had  been  connected 
with  the  police  force,  the  good  man — to  use  his  own  ex- 
pression— had  seen  many  of  his  colleagues  walk  over  him 
and  win,  after  only  a  few  months'  work,  a  promotion  that 
his  long  years  of  service  had  not  gained  for  him.  In  these 
cases  he  had  not  failed  to  accuse  his  superiors  of  injustice, 
and  his  fortunate  rivals  of  gross  flattery.  In  his  opinion, 
seniority  was  the  only  claim  to  advancement — the  only, 
the  best,  the  most  respectable  claim  ;  and  he  was  wont  to 
sum  up  all  his  opinions,  all  his  grief  and  bitterness  of  mind 
in  one  phrase  : — li  It  is  infamous  to  pass  over  an  old  mem- 
ber of  the  service." 

To-night,  however,  Father  Absinthe  discovered  that 
there  is  something  else  in  the  world  besides  seniority,  and 
sufficient  reasons  for  what  he  had  formerly  regarded  as 
favouritism.  He  secretly  confessed  that  this  new  comer 
whom  he  had  treated  so  carelessly,  had  just  followed  up  a 
clue  as  he,  veteran  though  he  was,  would  never  have  suc- 
ceeded in  doing. 

But  communing  with  himself  was  not  this  good  man's 
forte  ;  he  soon  grew  weary  of  reflection  ;  and  on  reaching 
a  place  where  they  were  obliged  to  proceed  more  slowly 
on  account  of  the  badness  of  the  road,  he  deemed  it  a 
favourable  opportunity  to  resume  the  conversation.  "  You 
are  silent,  comrade,"  he  ventured  to  remark,  "  and  one 
might  swear  that  you  were  not  exactly  pleased." 

This  surprising  result  of  the  old  man's  reflections  would 
have  amazed  Lecoq,  if  his  mind  had  not  been  a  hundred 
leagues  away.  "  No,  I  am  not  pleased,"  he  responded. 

"  And  why,  pray  ?  Only  ten  minutes  ago  you  were  as 
gay  as  a  lark." 

"  Then  I  did  not  see  the  misfortune  that  threatens  us." 

"  A  misfortune  !  " 

"  A  very  great  misfortune.  Do  you  not  perceive  that 
the  weather  has  undesirably  changed.  It  is  evident  that 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  37 

the  wind  is  now  coming  from  the  south.  The  fog  has  dis- 
appeared, but  the  sky  is  cloudy  and  threatening.  It  will 
rain  in  less  than  an  hour." 

"  A  few  drops  are  falling  now  ;  I  just  felt  one." 

These  words  produced  on  Lecoq  much  the  same  effect 
as  a  whip-up  on  a  spirited  horse.  He  sprang  forward, 
and,  adopting  a  still  more  hurried  pace,  exclaimed  : — "  Let 
us  make  haste !  let  us  make  haste  !  " 

The  old  police-agent  followed  him  as  in  duty  bound  , 
but  his  mind  was,  if  possible,  still  more  troubled  by  the 
replies  of  his  young  companion.  A  great  misfortune  ! 
The  wind  from  the  south  !  Rain  !  He  did  not,  he  could 
not  see  the  connection. 

Greatly  puzzled,  and  not  a  little  anxious,  Father  Ab- 
sinthe asked  for  an  explanation,  although  he  had  but  little 
more  breath  than  was  absolutely  necessary  to  enable  him 
to  continue  the  forced  march  he  was  making.  "Upon 
my  word,"  said  he,  "  I  have  racked  my  brains — " 

His  companion  took  pity  on  his  anxiety.  "  What ! "  he 
exclaimed,  as  he  still  hastened  forward,  uyou  do  not  un- 
derstand that  our  investigation,  my  success,  and  your 
reward,  are  dependent  upon  those  black  clouds  which  the 
wind  is  driving  toward  us  ! " 

"Ohl" 

"  Twenty  minutes  of  merely  gentle  rain,  and  our  time 
and  labour  will  be  lost.  If  it  rains,  the  snow  will  melt, 
and  then  farewell  to  our  proofs.  Let  us  get  on — let  us  get 
on  more  quickly  !  You  know  very  well  that  in  such  cases 
words  don't  suffice.  If  we  declare  to  the  public  prosecutor 
that  we  have  seen  these  foot-prints,  he  will  ask,  where  ? 
And  what  can  we  say  ?  If  we  swear  by  all  the  gods  that 
we  have  seen  the  foot-prints  of  a  man  and  of  two  women, 
the  investigating  magistrate  will  say,  '  Let  me  see  them.' 
And  who  will  feel  sheepish  then  ?  Father  Absinthe  and 
Lecoq.  Besides,  Gevrol  would  not  fail  to  declare  that  we 
were  saying  what  was  not  true,  in  order  to  enhance  our 
own  value,  and  humiliate  him." 

"What  an  idea!" 

"  Faster,  papa,  faster ,  you  will  have  all  day  to-morrow 
to  be  indignant.  Perhaps  it  will  not  rain.  In  that  case, 
these  perfect,  clear,  and  easily  recognisable  foot-prints  will 
prove  the  culprits'  ruin.  How  can  we  preserve  them? 
By  what  process  could  we  solidify  them  ?  I  would  deluge 


them  with  my  blood  if  that  could  only  cause  them  to 
congeal." 

Father  Absinthe  was  just  then  thinking  that  his  share  of 
the  labour  had  hitherto  been  the  least  important ;  for  he 
had  merely  held  the  lantern.  But  here  was  a  chance  for 
him  to  acquire  a  real  and  substantial  right  to  the  prospective 
reward.  "  I  know  a  method,"  said  he,  "  by  which  one  could 
preserve  these  marks  in  the  snow." 

At  these  words  the  younger  man  stopped  short.  "  You 
know — you  ?  "  he  interrupted. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  replied  the  old  detective,  with  the  evident 
satisfaction  of  a  man  who  has  gained  his  revenge.  "  They 
invented  a  way  at  the  time  of  that  affair  at  the  Maison 
Blanche,  last  December." 

"  I  recollect." 

"  Ah  !  well,  on  the  snow  in  the  court-yard  there  was  a 
foot-print  that  attracted  a  detective's  attention.  He  said 
that  the  whole  evidence  depended  on  that  mark  alone,  that 
it  was  worth  more  than  ten  years'  hard  work  in  following 
up  the  case.  Naturally,  he  desired  to  preserve  it.  They 
sent  for  a  great  chemist — " 

"  Go  on,  go  on." 

"  I  have  never  seen  the  method  put  into  practice,  but  an 
expert  told  me  all  about  it,  and  showed  me  the  mould  they 
obtained.  He  explained  it  to  me  precisely,  on  account  of 
my  profession." 

Lecoq  was  trembling  with  impatience.  "  And  how  did 
they  obtain  the  mould  ?  "  he  asked  abruptly. 

"  Wait :  I  was  just  going  to  explain.  They  take  some 
of  the  best  gelatine,  and  allow  it  tc  soak  in  cold  water. 
When  it  becomes  thoroughly  softe^  :d,  they  heat  it  until  it 
forms  a  liquid,  of  moderate  consistency.  Then  when  it  is 
just  cool  enough,  they  pour  a  nice  little  covering  of  it  upon 
the  foot-print." 

Lecoq  felt  the  irritation  that  is  natural  to  a  person  who 
has  just  heard  a  bad  joke,  or  who  has  lost  his  time  in 
listening  to  a  fool. 

"  Enough  !  "  he  interrupted,  angrily.  "  That  method  can 
be  found  in  all  the  manuals.  It  is  excellent,  no  doubt,  but 
how  can  it  serve  us  ?  Have  you  any  gelatine  about  you  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Nor  have  I.  You  might  as  well  have  counselled  me  to 
pour  melted  lead  upon  the  foot-prints  to  fix  them." 


MONSIEUR  LBCOQ.  3f 

They  continued  their  way,  and  five  minutes  later,  without 
having  exchanged  another  word,  they  re-entered  the  Widow 
Chupin's  hovel.  The  first  impulse  of  the  older  man  would 
have  been  to  rest  to  breathe,  but  Lecoq  did  not  give  him 
time  to  do  so. 

Make  haste :  get  me  a  dish — a  plate — anything !  "  cried 
the  young  detective,  "  and  bring  me  some  water ,  gather 
together  all  the  boards  and  old  boxes  you  can  find  lying 
about." 

While  his  companion  was  obeying  him,  Lecoq  armed 
himself  with  a  fragment  of  one  of  the  broken  bottles,  and 
began  scraping  away  furiously  at  the  plastered  wall  that 
separated  the  two  rooms.  His  mind  disconcerted  at  first 
by  the  imminence  of  this  unexpected  catastrophe,  a  fall  of 
rain,  had  now  regained  its  equilibrium.  He  had  reflected, 
he  had  thought  of  a  way  by  which  failure  might  possibly  be 
averted — and  he  hoped  for  ultimate  success.  When  he  had 
accumulated  some  seven  or  eight  handfuls  of  fine  plaster 
dust,  he  mixed  one  half  with  a  little  water  so  as  to  form  a 
thin  paste,  leaving  the  rest  untouched  on  the  side  of  the 
plate. 

"  Now,  papa,"  said  he,  "  come  and  hold  the  light  for  me." 

When  in  the  garden,  the  young  man  sought  for  the 
deepest  and  most  distinct  of  the  foot-prints,  knelt  beside  it, 
and  began  his  experiment,  trembling  with  anxiety.  He 
first  sprinkled  upon  the  impression  a  fine  coating  of  dry 
plaster,  and  then  upon  this  coating,  with  infinite  care,  he 
poured  his  liquid  solution  drop  by  drop. 

What  luck !  the  experiment  was  successful !  The  plaster 
united  in  a  homogeneous  mass,  forming  a  perfect  model  of 
the  impression.  Thus,  after  an  hour's  labour,  Lecoq 
possessed  half-a-dozen  of  these  casts,  which  might,  perhaps, 
be  a  little  wanting  in  clearness  of  outline,  but  which  were 
quite  perfect  enough  to  be  used  as  evidence. 

The  young  detective's  akrm  had  been  well  founded,  for 
it  was  already  beginning  to  rain.  Still,  he  had  plenty  of 
time  to  cover  a  number  of  the  foot-prints,  with  the  boxes 
and  piece-  of  board,  which  Father  Absinthe  had  collected, 
thus,  plac  ng  them  as  it  were  beyond  the  reach  of  a  thaw. 
Now  he  could  breathe.  The  authorities  might  come ,  for 
the  most  important  part  of  his  task  was  completed. 


40  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 


V. 

IT  was  some  distance  from  the  Poivriere  to  the  Rue  di 
Chevaleret,  even  by  way  of  the  plain,  and  fully  four  hours 
had  been  occupied  by  Lecoq  and  his  colleague  in  collecting 
their  elements  of  information. 

All  this  while,  the  Widow  Chupin's  abode  had  remained 
open,  accessible  to  any  chance  visitor.  Still,  when,  on  his 
return,  the  young  police-agent  remembered  this  neglect  of 
elementary  precautions,  he  did  not  feel  alarmed.  Con- 
sidering all  the  circumstances,  it  was  very  difficult  to  believe 
that  any  serious  harm  could  have  resulted  from  this  care- 
lessness. 

For  who  would  have  been  likely  to  visit  this  drinking-den 
after  midnight  ?  Its  bad  name  served  the  purpose  of  a 
bulwark.  The  most  daring  vagrants  did  not  drink  there 
without  some  disquietude,  fearing  that  if  the  liquor  caused 
them  to  lose  consciousness,  they  might  be  robbed  or  perhaps 
even  murdered.  Hence,  if  anyone  had  been  attracted  to 
this  notoriously  dangerous  drinking- shop  by  the  light  that 
streamed  through  the  open  door,  it  could  only  have  been 
some  very  reckless  person  returning  late  at  night  from  the 
ball  at  the  Rainbow,  with  a  few  sous  left  in  his  pocket. 
But,  even  then,  a  single  glance  inside  would  have  sufficed 
to  put  the  bravest  to  flight. 

In  less  than  a  second  the  young  police-agent  had  weighed 
all  these  possibilities,  concerning  which  he  did  not  breathe 
a  word  to  Father  Absinthe.  When,  little  by  little,  the 
excitement  caused  by  his  successive  hopes  and  disappoint- 
ments, and  by  the  accomplishment  of  the  experiment  with 
the  foot-prints  had  died  away,  and  he  had  regained  his 
usual  calm  of  mind,  he  made  a  careful  inspection  of  the 
abode,  and  was  by  no  means  satisfied  with  himself.  He 
had  experimented  upon  Father  Absinthe  with  his  new  system 
of  investigation,  just  as  an  aspiring  orator  tries  his  powers 
before  his  least  gifted  friends,  not  before  the  cleverest. 
He  had  certainly  overwhelmed  the  old  veteran  by  his 
superiority ;  he  had  literally  crushed  him.  But  what  great 
merit,  what  wonderful  victory  was  this  ?  Why  should  he 
boast  of  having  out-witted  Father  Absinthe,  one  of  the  least 
sagacious  men  in  the  service  ? 

If  he  could  only  have  given  some  startling  proofs  of  his 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  41 

energy  or  of  his  penetration  !  But,  after  all,  what  had  he 
accomplished  ?  Was  the  mystery  solved  ?  Was  his  suc- 
cess more  than  problematical?  When  one  thread  is 
drawn  out,  the  skein  is  not  untangled.  This  night  would 
undoubtedly  decide  his  future  as  a  detective,  so  he  swore 
that  if  he  could  not  conquer  his  vanity,  he  wou.d,  at  least, 
compel  himself  to  conceal  it.  Hence,  it  was  in  n.  very 
modest  tone  that  he  said  to  his  companion,  "  We  have  done 
all  that  we  can  do  outside,"  said  he,  "  now,  would  it  not 
be  wise  to  busy  ourselves  with  the  inside  of  the  house  ?  " 

Everything  looked  exactly  in  the  same  state  as  when  the 
two  men  left  the  room.  A  candle,  with  a  charred  smoking 
wick,  cast  its  flickering  light  upon  the  same  scene  of  dis- 
order, revealing  to  view  the  rigid  features  of  the  three 
victims.  Without  losing  a  moment,  Lecoq  began  to  pick 
up  and  study  the  various  objects  scattered  over  the  floor. 
Some  of  these  still  remained  intact.  The  Widow  Chupin 
had  recoiled  from  the  expend  of  a  tiled  floor,  judging  the 
bare  ground  upon  which  the  cabin  was  built  quite  good 
enough  for  the  feet  of  her  customers.  This  ground,  which 
must  originally  have  been  well  beaten  down,  had,  by  con- 
stant use  and  damp,  become  well-nigh  as  muddy  as  the 
soil  outside. 

The  first  fruits  of  Lecoq's  search  were  a  large  salad-bowl, 
and  a  big  iron  spoon,  the  latter  so  twisted  and  bent  that 
it  had  evidently  been  used  as  a  weapon  during  the  con- 
flict. On  inspecting  the  bowl,  it  became  evident  that  when 
the  quarrel  began  the  victims  were  regaling  themselves 
with  the  familiar  mixture  of  water,  wine,  and  sugar,  known 
round  about  the  barrieres  as  vin  a  la  Francaise.  After  the 
salad-bowl,  the  two  men  picked  up  five  of  the  weighty 
glasses  ordinarily  used  in  wine-shops,  and  which,  while 
looking  as  though  they  would  contain  half  a  bottle,  are  in 
point  of  fact  so  thick  at  the  bottom  that  they  hold  next  to 
nothing.  Three  of  these  glasses  were  broken,  two  were 
whole.  All  of  them  had  contained  wine — the  same  vin  a 
la  Francaise.  This  was  plain,  but  for  greater  surety,  Lecoq 
applied  his  tongue  to  the  bluish  mixture  remaining  in  the 
bottom  of  each  glass.  "  The  deuce  ! "  he  muttered,  with 
an  astonished  air. 

Then  he  examined  successively  the  surfaces  of  the  three 
over-turned  tables.  Upon  one  of  these,  the  one  nearest 
the  fire-place  and  the  window,  the  still  wet  marks  of  the 


42  MONSIEUR  LJSCOQ. 

five  glasses,  of  the  salad-bowl,  and  even  of  the  spoons 
could  be  distinguished.  Lecoq  very  properly  regarded 
this  circumstance  as  a  matter  of  the  greatest  importance, 
for  it  proved  clearly  enough  that  five  persons  had  emptied 
the  salad-bowl  in  company.  Who  were  these  five  persons  ? 

"  Oh !  oh ! "  suddenly  exclaimed  Lecoq  in  two  entirely 
different  tones.  "  Then  the  two  women  could  not  have 
been  with  the  murderer  !  " 

A  very  simple  mode  of  discovery  had  presented  itself  to 
his  mind.  It  was  to  ascertain  if  there  were  any  other 
glasses,  and  what  they  had  contained.  After  afresh  search 
on  the  floor,  a  sixth  glass  was  found,  similar  in  form  to  the 
others  but  much  smaller.  Its  smell  showed  that  it  had 
contained  brandy.  Then  these  two  women  had  not  been 
with  the  murderer,  and  therefore  he  could  not  have  fought 
because  the  other  men  had  insulted  them.  This  discove;y 
proved  the  inaccuracy  of  Lecoq's  original  suppositions. 
It  was  an  unexpected  check,  and  he  was  mourning  over  it 
in  silence,  when  Father  Absinthe,  who  had  not  ceased 
ferreting  about,  uttered  a  cry  of  surprise. 

The  young  man  turned  ;  he  saw  that  his  companion  had 
become  very  pale.  "  What  is  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Some  one  has  been  here  in  our  absence." 

"  Impossible !  " 

It  was  not  impossible — it  was  true.  When  Gevrol  had 
torn  the  apron  off  Widow  Chupin's  head  he  had  thrown  it 
upon  the  steps  of  the  stairs  ;  neither  of  the  police-agents  had 
since  touched  it.  And  yet  the  pockets  of  this  apron  were 
now  turned  inside  out ;  this  was  a  proof,  this  was  evidence. 
At  this  discovery  Lecoq  was  overcome  with  consternation, 
and  the  contraction  of  his  features  revealed  the  struggle 
going  on  in  his  mind.  "  Who  could  have  been  here  ? "  he 
murmured.  "  Robbers  ?  That  is  improbable." 

Then,  after  a  long  silence  which  his  companion  took  good 
care  not  to  interrupt,  he  added  :  "  The  person  who  came 
here,  who  dared  to  penetrate  into  this  abode  and  face  the 
corpses  of  these  murdered  men — this  person  could  have 
been  none  other  than  the  accomplice.  But  it  is  not 
enough  to  suspect  this,  it  is  necessary  to  know  it.  I  must 
—I  will  know  it !  " 

They  searched  for  a  long  time,  and  it  was  not  until  after 
an  hour  of  earnest  work  that,  in  front  of  the  door  forced 
open  by  the  police,  they  discovered  in  the  mud,  just  inside 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  43 

the  marks  made  by  Gevrol's  tread,  a  foot-print  that  bore  a 
close  resemblance  to  those  left  by  the  man  who  had  en- 
tered the  garden.  They  compared  the  impressions  and 
recognized  the  same  designs  formed  by  the  nails  upon  the 
sole  of  the  boot. 

"  It  must  have  been  the  accomplice  !  "  exclaimed  Lecoq. 
"  He  watched  us,  he  saw  us  go  away,  and  then  he  entered. 
But  why  ?  What  pressing,  irresistible  necessity  made  him 
decide  to  brave  such  imminent  danger  ?  "  He  seized  his 
companion's  hand,  nearly  crushing  it  in  his  excitement : 
"  Ah !  I  know  why !  "  continued  he,  violently.  "  I  un- 
derstand only  too  well.  Some  article  that  would  have 
served  to  throw  light  on  this  horrible  affair  had  been  left 
or  forgotten,  or  lost  here,  and  to  obtain  it,  to  find  it,  he 
decided  to  run  this  terrible  risk.  And  to  think  that  it  was 
my  fault,  my  fault  alone,  that  this  convincing  proof  escaped 
us !  And  I  thought  myself  so  shrewd  !  What  a  lesson  ! 
The  door  should  have  been  locked  ;  any  fool  would  have 
thought  of  it — "  Here  he  checked  himself,  and  remained 
with  open  mouth  and  distended  eyes,  pointing  with  his 
finger  to  one  of  the  corners  of  the  room. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ? "  asked  his  frightened  com- 
panion. 

Lecoq  made  no  reply,  but  slowly,  and  with  the  stiff 
movements  of  a  somnambulist,  he  approached  the  spot  to 
which  he  had  pointed,  stooped,  picked  up  something,  and 
said  :  "  My  folly  is  not  deserving  of  such  luck." 

The  object  he  had  found  was  an  earring  composed  of  a 
single  large  diamond.  The  setting  was  of  marvellous 
workmanship.  "  This  diamond,"  declared  Lecoq,  after  a 
moment's  examination,  "  must  be  worth  at  least  five  or  six 
thousand  francs." 

"  Are  you  in  earnest  ?  " 

"  I  think  I  could  swear  to  it." 

He  would  not  have  troubled  about  such  a  preamble  as 
"  I  think "  a  few  hours  before,  but  the  blunder  he  had 
made  was  a  lesson  that  would  not  be  forgotten  so  long  as 
he  lived. 

"  Perhaps  it  was  that  same  diamond  earring  that  the  ac- 
complice came  to  seek,"  ventured  Father  Absinthe. 

"  The  supposition  is  scarcely  admissible.  In  that  case, 
He  would  not  have  sought  for  it  in  Mother  Chupin's  apron. 


44 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 


No,  he  must  have  been  seeking  for  something  else — a  let? 
ter,  for  example." 

The  older  man  was  not  listening ;  he  had  taken  the 
earring,  and  was  examining  it  in  his  turn.  "  And  to  think," 
he  murmured,  astonished  by  the  brilliancy  of  the  stone, 
"to  think  that  a  woman  who  had  ten  thousand  francs' 
worth  of  jewels  in  her  ears  should  have  come  to  the  Poi- 
vriere.  Who  would  have  believed  it  ?  " 

Lecoq  shook  his  head  thoughtfully.  "  Yes,  it  is  ver^ 
strange,  very  improbable,  very  absurd.  And  yet  we  shall 
see  many  things  quite  as  strange  if  we  ever  arrive — which 
I  very  much  doubt — at  a  solution  of  this  mysterious  af« 
fair." 

Day  was  breaking,  cold,  cheerless,  and  gloomy,  when 
Lecoq  and  his  colleague  concluded  their  investigation. 
There  was  not  an  inch  of  j  space  that  had  not  been  ex- 
plored, carefully  examined  and  studied,  one  might  almost 
say,  with  a  magnifying  glass.  There  now  only  remained 
to  draw  up  the  report. 

The  younger  man  seated  himself  at  the  table,  and,  with 
the  view  of  making  his  recital  as  intelligible  as  possible, 
he  began  by  sketching  a  plan  of  the  scene  ot  the  mur- 
der. 


A.— The  point  where  the  squad  of  police,  under  the  command  of  Inspectot 
Gevrol,  heard  the  cries  of  the  victims. 

(The  distance  from  this  point  to  the  wine-shop  known  as  the  Poivriere,  is 
only  one  hundred  and  twenty-three  yards  ;  hence,  it  may  reasonably  be  sup» 
posed  that  these  cries  weie  the  first  that  were  uttered,  and  consequently  that 
the  conflict  had  Just  commenced.) 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  4j 

B.— The  window  closed  with  shutters,  through  the  cracks  oi  which  one  of  tin 
police-agents  was  able  to  see  the  scene  within. 

C.— The  door  forced  open  by  Inspector  Gevrol. 

D. — The  staircase  upon  which  die  Widow  Chupin  was  seated,  crying. 

(It  was  upon  the  third  step  of  this  staircase  that  the  Widow  Chupm's  aproa 
was  afterwards  found,  the.  pockets  turned  inside  out.) 

F.— Fire-place. 

HHH.— Tables. 

(The  remnants  of  the  salad-bowl  and  of  the  five  glasses  were  found  scattered 
on  the  floor  between  the  points  F.  and  B.) 

T. — Door  communicating  with  the  back  room  of  the  hovel,  before  which  the 
armed  murderer  was  standing  with  the  table  H.  before  him  as  a  rampart. 

K. — Back  door  of  the  hut,  opening  into  the  garden,  by  which  the  agent  of  po- 
lice, who  thought  of  cutting  off  the  murderer's  retreat,  entered  and  secured 
him. 

L.— Gate  of  the  garden,  opening  upon  the  unoccupied  ground. 

MM. — Footprints  on  the  snow,  discovered  by  the  police-agent  remaining  at 
the  Poivriere,  after  the  departure  of  Inspector  Gevrol. 

It  will  be  seen  that  in  the  memoranda  appended  to  this 
explanatory  diagram,  Lecoq  had  not  once  written  his  own 
name.  In  noting  the  things  that  he  had  imagined  or  dis- 
covered, he  referred  to  himself  simply  as  one  of  the  police. 
This  was  not  so  much  modesty  as  calculation.  By  hiding 
one's  self  on  well-chosen  occasions,  one  gains  greater  no- 
toriety when  one  emerges  from  the  shade.  It  was  also 
through  cunning  that  he  gave  Gevrol  such  a  prominent 
position.  These  tactics,  rather  subtle,  perhaps,  but  after 
all  perfectly  fair,  could  not  fail  to  call  attention  to  the  man 
who  had  shown  himself  so  efficient  when  the  efforts  of  his 
chief  had  been  merely  confined  to  breaking  open  the 
door. 

The  document  Lecoq  drew  up  was  not  a.  proces-verbal,  a 
formal  act  reserved  for  the  officers  of  judiciary  police  ;  it 
was  simple  report,  that  would  be  admitted  under  the  title 
of  an  inquiry  and  yet  the  young  detective  composed  it 
with  quite  as  much  care  as  a  general  would  have  displayed 
in  drawing  up  the  bulletin  of  his  first  victory. 

While  Lecoq  was  drawing  and  writing,  Father  Absinthe 
leaned  over  his  shoulder  to  watch  him.  The  plan  amazed 
that  worthy  man.  He  had  seen  a  great  deal ;  but  he  had 
always  supposed  that  it  was  necessary  to  be  an  engineer, 
an  architect,  or,  at  least,  a  carpenter,  to  execute  such 
work.  Not  at  all.  With  a  tape-line  with  which  to  take 
some  measurements,  and  a  bit  of  board  in  place  of  a  rule, 
his  inexperienced  colleague  had  soon  accomplished  the 
miracle.  Father  Absinthe's  respect  for  Lecoq  was  thereby 
greatly  augmented.  It  is  true  that  the  worthy  veteran  had 
not  noticed  the  explosion  of  the  young  police-agent's  van- 
ity, nor  his  return  to  his  former  modest  demeanour.  He 


46  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

had  not  observed  his  alarm,  nor  his  perplexity,  nor  his 
lack  of  penetration. 

After  a  few  moments,  Father  Absinthe  ceased  watching 
his  companion.  He  felt  weary  after  the  labours  of  the 
night,  his  head  was  burning,  and  he  shivered  and  his  knees 
trembled.  Perhaps,  though  he  was  by  no  means  sensitive, 
he  felt  the  influence  of  the  horrors  that  surrounded  him, 
and  which  seemed  more  sinister  than  ever  in  the  bleak 
light  of  morning.  He  began  to  ferret  in  the  cupboards, 
and  at  last  succeeded  in  discovering — O,  marvellous  for- 
tune ! — a  bottle  of  brandy,  three  parts  full.  He  hesitated 
for  an  instant,  then  he  poured  out  a  glass,  and  drained  it  a 
single  draught. 

"  Will  you  have  some  ?  "  he  inquired  of  his  companion. 
"  It  is  not  a  very  famous  brand,  to  be  sure ,  but  it  is  just 
as  good,  it  makes  one's  blood  circulate  and  enlivens  one." 

Lecoq  refused  ;  he  did  not  need  to  be  enlivened.  All 
his  faculties  were  hard  at  work.  He  intended  that,  after 
a  single  perusal  of  his  report,  the  investigating  magistrate 
should  say :  "  Let  the  officer  who  drew  up  this  document 
be  sent  for."  It  must  be  remembered  that  Lecoq's  future 
depended  upon  such  an  order.  Accordingly,  he  took  par- 
ticular care  to  be  brief,  clear,  and  concise,  to  plainly  in- 
dicate how  his  suspicions  on  the  subject  of  the  murder 
had  been  aroused,  how  they  had  increased,  and  how  they 
had  been  confirmed.  He  explained  by  what  series  of  de- 
ductions he  had  succeeded  in  establishing  a  theory  whichs 
if  it  was  not  the  truth,  was  at  least  plausible  enough  to 
serve  as  the  basis  for  further  investigation. 

Then  he  enumerated  the  articles  of  conviction  ranged 
on  the  table  before  him.  There  was  the  flakes  of  brown 
wool  collected  upon  the  plank,  the  valuable  earring,  the 
models  of  the  different  foot-prints  in  the  garden,  and  the 
Widow  Chupin's  apron  with  its  pockets  turned  inside  out. 
There  was  also  the  murderer's  revolver,  with  two  barrels 
discharged  and  three  still  loaded.  This  weapon,  although 
not  of  an  ornamental  character,  was  still  a  specimen  of 
highly-finished  workmanship.  It  bore  the  name  of  one 
Stephens,  14  Skinner  street,  a  well-known  London  gun- 
smith. 

Lecoq  felt  convinced  that  by  examining  the  bodies  of  the 
victims  he  would  obtain  other,  and  perhaps  very  valuable 
information ;  but  he  did  not  dare  venture  upon  such  a  course 


MONSIEUR  LMCOQ.  47 

Besides  his  own  inexperience  in  such  a  matter,  there  was 
Gevrol  to  be  thought  of,  and  the  inspector,  furious  at  his 
own  mistake,  would  not  fail  to  declare  that,  by  changing 
the  attitude  of  the  bodies,  Lecoq  had  rendered  a  satisfac- 
tory examination  by  the  physicians  impossible. 

The  young  detective  accordingly  tried  to  console  him- 
self for  his  forced  inaction  in  this  respect,  and  he  was  re- 
reading his  report,  modifying  a  few  expressions,  when 
Father  Absinthe,  who  was  standing  upon  the  threshold  of 
the  outer  door,  called  to  him. 

"  Is  there  anything  new  ?  "  asked  Lecoq. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  reply.  "  H^re  came  Gervol  and  two  of 
our  comrades  with  the  commissary  of  police  and  two  other 
gentlemen." 

It  was,  indeed,  the  commissary  who  was  approaching, 
interested  but  not  disturbed  by  this  triple  murder  which 
was  sure  to  make  his  arrondissement  the  subject  of  Paris- 
ian conversation  during  the  next  few  days.  Why,  indeed, 
should  he  be  troubled  about 'it  ?  For  Gevrol,  whose  opin- 
ion in  such  matters  might  be  regarded  as  an  authority,  had 
taken  care  to  re-assure  him  when  he  went  to  arouse  him 
from  his  slumbers. 

"  It  was  only  a  fight  between  some  old  offenders ;  former 
jail  birds,  habitues  of  the  Poivriere,"  he  had  said,  adding 
sententiously,  "  If  all  these  ruffians  would  kill  one  another, 
we  might  have  some  little  peace." 

He  added  that  as  the  murderer  had  been  arrested  and 
placed  in  confinement,  there  was  nothing  urgent  about  the 
case.  Accordingly,  the  commissary  thought  there  was  no 
harm  in  taking  another  nap  and  waiting  until  morning  before 
beginning  the  inquiry.  He  had  seen  the  murderer,  report- 
ed the  case  to  the  prefecture,  and  now  he  was  coming — lei 
surely  enough — accompanied  by  two  physicians,  appoint- 
ed by  the  authorities  to  draw  up  a  medico- legal  report  in 
all  such  cases.  The  party  also  comprised  a  sergeant-ma- 
jor of  the  53rd  regiment  of  infantry  of  the  line,  who  had 
been  summoned  by  the  commissary  to  identify,  if  possible, 
the  murdered  man  who  wore  a  uniform,  for  if  one  might 
believe  the  number  engraved  upon  the  buttons  of  his  over- 
coat, he  belonged  to  the  53rd  regiment,  now  stationed  at 
the  neighbouring  fort. 

As  he  party  approached  it  was  evident  that  Inspector 
Gevrol  was  even  less  disturbed  than  the  commissary.  He 


48  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

whistled  as  he  walked  along,  flourishing  his  cane,  which 
never  left  his  hand,  and  already  laughing  in  his  sleeve  ovei 
the  discomfiture  of  the  presumptuous  fool  who  had  desired 
to  remain  to  glean,  where  he,  the  experienced  and  skillful 
officer,  had  perceived  nothing.  As  soon  as  he  was  within 
speaking  distance,  the  inspector  called  to  Father  Absinthe, 
who,  after  warning  Lecoq,  remained  on  the  threshpld,  lean- 
ing against  the  door-post,  puffing  his  pipe,  as  immovable 
as  a  sphinx. 

"  Ah,  well,  old  man  !  "  cried  Gevrol,  "  have  you  any 
g»eat  melodrama,  very  dark  and  very  mysterious,  to  relate 
to  us  ? " 

"  I  have  nothing  to  relate  myself/'  replied  the  old  detec- 
tive, without  even  drawing  his  pipe  from  his  lips,  "  I  am 
too  stupid,  that  is  perfectly  understood.  But  Monsieur 
Lecoq  will  tell  you  something  that  will  astonish  you." 

The  prefix,  "  monsieur,"  which  the  old  police-agent  used 
in  speaking  of  his  colleague,  displeased  Gevrol  so  much 
that  he  pretended  not  to  understand.  "  Who  are  you 
speaking  of  ?  "  he  asked  abruptly. 

"  Of  my  colleague,  of  course,  who  is  now  busy  finishing 
nis  report — of  Monsieur  Lecoq."  Quite  unintentionally, 
the  worthy  fellow  had  certainly  become  the  young  police- 
agent's  god-father.  From  that  day  forward,  for  his  ene- 
mies as  well  as  for  his  friends,  he  was  and  he  remained 
"  Monsieur  "  Lecoq. 

"  Ah  !  ah !  "  said  the  inspector,  whose  hearing  was  evi- 
dently impaired.  "  Ah,,  he  has  discovered — " 

"  The  pot  of  roses  which  others  did  not  scent,  General." 
By  this  remark,  Father  Absinthe  made  an  enemy  of  his  su- 
perior officer.  But  he  cared  little  for  that :  Lecoq  had  be- 
come his  deity  and  no  matter  what  future  might  reserve, 
the  old  veteran  had  resolved  to  follow  his  young  colleague's 
fortunes. 

"  We'll  see  about  that,"  murmured  the  inspector,  men- 
tally resolving  to  have  an  eye  on  this  youth  whom  success 
might  transform  into  a  rival.  He  said  no  more,  for  the 
little  party  which  he  preceded  had  now  overtaken  him, 
and  he  stood  aside  to  make  way  for  the  commissary  of  po- 
lice. 

This  commissary  was  far  from  being  a  novice.  He  had 
served  for  many  years,  and  yet  he  could  not  repress  a  ges- 
ture of  horror  as  he  entered  the  Poivriere.  The  sergeant 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  49 

major  of  the  53rd  who  followed  him,  an  old  soldier,  decor- 
ated and  medalled — who  had  smelt  powder  many  scores 
of  times — was  still  more  overcome.  He  grew  as  pale  as 
the  corpses  lying  on  the  ground,  and  was  obliged  to  lean 
against  the  wall  for  support.  The  two  physicians  alone 
retained  their  stoical  indifference. 

Lecoq  had  risen,  his  report  in  his  hand  ;  he  bowed,  and 
assuming  a  respectful  attitude,  was  waiting  to  be  ques- 
tioned. 

"  You  must  have  passed  a  frightful  night,"  said  the  com- 
missary, kindly ;  "  and  quite  necessarily,  since  any  investi- 
gation was  superfluous." 

"  I  think,  however,"  replied  the  young  police-agent*  hav- 
ing recourse  to  all  his  diplomacy,  "  that  my  time  has  not 
been  entirely  lost.  I  have  acted  according  to  the  instruc- 
tions of  my  superior  officer ;  I  have  searched  the  premises 
thoroughly,  and  I  have  ascertained  many  things.  I  have, 
for  example,  acquired  the  certainty  that  the  murderer  had 
a  friend,  possibly  an  accomplice,  of  whom  I  can  give  quite 
a  close  description.  He  must  have  been  of  middle  age, 
and  wore,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  a  soft  cap  and  a  brown 
woollen  overcoat :  as  for  his  boots — " 

"  Zounds !  "  exclaimed  Gevrol,  "  and  I — "  He  stopped 
short,  like  a  man  whose  impulse  had  exceeded  his  discre* 
tion,  and  who  would  have  gladly  recalled  his  words. 

"  And  you  ?  "  enquired  the  commissary,  "  pray,  what  do 
you  mean  ?  " 

The  inspector  had  gone  too  far  to  draw  back,  and,  un 
wittingly,  was  now  obliged  to  act  as  his  own  executioner. 
"  I  was  about  to  mention,"  he  said,  "  that  this  morning, 
an  hour  or  so  ago,  while  I  was  waiting  for  you,  sir,  before 
the  station-house,  at  the  Barriere  d'ltalie,  where  the  mur- 
derer is  confined,  I  noticed  close  by  an  individual  whose 
appearance  was  not  unlike  that  of  the  man  described  by 
Lecoq.  This  man  seemed  to  be  very  intoxicated,  for  he 
reeled  and  staggered  against  the  walls.  He  tried  to  cross 
the  street,  but  fell  down  in  the  middle  of  it,  in  such  a  posi- 
tion that  he  would  inevitably  have  been  crushed  by  the 
first  passing  vehicle." 

Lecoq  turned  away  his  head ;  he  did  not  wish  them  to 
read  in  his  eyes  how  perfectly  he  understood  the  whole 
game. 

"  Seeing  this,"  pursued  Gevrol,  "  I  called  two  men  and 


50  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

asked  them  to  aid  me  in  raising  the  poor  devil.  We  went 
\jp  to  him ;  he  had  apparently  fallen  asleep :  we  shook  him 
-*-we  made  him  sit  up ;  we  told  him  that  he  could  not  re- 
main there,  but  he  immediately  flew  into  a  furious  rage. 
He  swore  at  us,  threatened  us,  and  began  fighting  us. 
And,  on  my  word,  we  had  to  take  him  to  the  station-house, 
and  leave  him  there  to  recover  from  the  effects  of  his 
drunken  debauch." 

"  Did  you  shut  him  up  in  the  same  cell  with  the  mur- 
derer ? "  inquired  Lecoq. 

"  Naturally.  You  know  very  well  that  there  are  only 
two  cages  in  the  station-house  at  the  barriere — one  for  men 
and  the  other  for  women ;  consequently — " 

The  commissary  seemed  thoughtful.  "  Ah !  that's  very 
unfortunate,"  he  murmured  ;  "  and  there  is  no  remedy." 

"  Excuse  me,  there  is  one,"  observed  Gevrol,  "  I  can 
send  one  of  my  men  to  the  station-house  with  an  order  to 
detain  the  drunken  man — " 

Lecoq  interposed  with  a  gesture  ; — "  Trouble  lost,"  he 
said  coldly.  "  If  this  individual  is  an  accomplice,  he  has 
got  sober  by  now — rest  assured  of  that,  and  is  already  far 
away." 

"  Then  what  is  to  be  done  ? "  asked  the  inspector,  with 
an  ironical  air.  "  May  one  be  permitted  to  ask  the  advice 
of  Monsieur  Lecoq  ? " 

"  I  think  chance  offered  us  a  splendid  opportunity,  and 
we  did  not  know  how  to  seize  it ;  and  that  the  best  thing  we 
can  do  now  is  to  give  over  mourning,  and  prepare  to  profit 
by  the  next  opportunity  that  presents  itself." 

Gevrol  was,  however,  determined  to  send  one  of  his  men 
to  the  station-house ;  and  it  was  not  until  the  messenger 
had  started,  that  Lecoq  commenced  the  reading  of  his  re- 
port. He  read  it  rapidly,  refraining  as  much  as  possible 
from  placing  the  decisive  proofs  in  strong  relief,  reserving 
these  for  his  own  benefit ;  but  so  strong  was  the  logic  of 
his  deductions,  that  he  was  frequently  interrupted  by  ap- 
proving remarks  from  the  commissary  and  the  two  physi- 
cians. 

Gevrol,  who  alone  represented  the  opposition,  shrugged 
his  shoulders  till  they  were  well  nigh  dislocated,  and  grew 
literally  green  with  jealousy. 

"  I  think  that  you  alone,  young  man,  have  judged  cor- 
rectly in  this  affair,"  said  the  commissary  when  Lecoq  had 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  51 

finished  reading.  "  I  may  be  mistaken  ;  but  your  explana- 
tions have  made  me  alter  my  opinion  concerning  the  mur- 
derer's attitude  while  I  was  questioning  him  (which  was  only 
for  a  moment).  He  refused,  obstinately  refused,  to  answer 
my  questions,  and  wouldn't  even  give  me  his  name." 

The  commissary  was  silent  for  a  moment,  reviewing  the 
past  circumstances  in  his  mind,  and  it  was  in  a  serious  tone 
that  he  eventually  added :  "  We  are,  I  feel  convinced,  in 
presence  of  one  of  those  mysterious  crimes,  the  cause  of 
which  are  beyond  the  reach  of  human  sagacity — this  strikes 
me  as  being  one  of  those  enigmatical  cases  which  human 
justice  never  can  reach." 

Lecoq  made  no  audible  rejoinder  ;  but  he  smiledvto  him- 
self and  thought,  "  We  will  see  about  that." 

VI. 

No  consultation  held  at  the  bedside  of  a  dying  man  ever 
took  place  in  the  presence  of  two  physicians  so  utterly  un- 
like each  other  as  those  who  accompanied  the  commissary 
of  police  to  the  Poivriere. 

One  of  them,  a  tall  old  man  with  a  bald  head,  wearing  a 
broad-brimmed  hat,  and  an  overcoat  of  antique  cut,  was 
evidently  one  of  those  modest  savants  encountered  occa- 
sionally in  the  by-ways  of  Paris — one  of  those  healers  de- 
voted to  their  art,  who  too  often  die  in  obscurity,  after 
rendering  immense  services  to  mankind.  He  had  the  gra- 
cious calmness  of  a  man  who,  having  seen  so  much  of  hu- 
man misery,  has  nothing  left  to  learn,  and  no  troubled 
conscience  could  have  possibly  sustained  his  searching 
glance,  which  was  as  keen  as  his  lancet. 

His  colleague — young,  fresh-looking,  light-haired,  and 
jovial — was  somewhat  foppishly  attired;  and  his  white  hands 
were  encased  in  handsome  fur  gloves.  There  was  a  soft 
self-satisfied  smile  on  his  face,  and  he  had  the  manners  of 
those  practitioners  who,  for  profit's  sake,  invariably  recom- 
mend the  infallible  panaceas  invented  each  month  in  chem- 
ical laboratories  and  advertised  ad  nauseam  in  the  back 
pages  of  newspapers.  He  had  probably  written  more  than 
one  article  upon  "  Medicine  for  the  use  of  the  people ; " 
puffing  various  mixtures,  pills,  ointments,  and  plasters  for 
the  benefit  of  their  respective  inventors. 


5«  MONSIEUR  LECOQ, 

"  I  will  request  you,  gentlemen,"  said  the  commissary  of 
police,  "  to  begin  your  duties  by  examining  the  victim  who 
wears  a  military  costume.  Here  is  a  sergeant-major  sum- 
moned to  answer  a  question  of  identity,  whom  I  must  send 
back  to  his  quarters  as  soon  as  possible." 

The  two  physicians  responded  with  a  gesture  of  assent, 
and  aided  by  Father  Absinthe  and  another  agent  of  police, 
they  lifted  the  body  and  laid  it  upon  two  tables,  which  had 
previously  been  placed  end  to  end.  They  were  not 
obliged  to  make  any  note  of  the  attitude  in  which  they 
found  the  body,  since  the  unfortunate  man,  who  was  still 
alive  when  the  police  entered  the  cabin,  had  been  moved 
before  he  expired. 

"  Approach,  sergeant,"  ordered  the  commissar}',  "  and 
look  carefully  at  this  man." 

It  was  with  very  evident  repugnance  that  the  old  soldier 
obeyed. 

"  What  is  the  uniform  that  he  wears  ? " 

"  It  is  the  uniform  of  the  and  battalion  of  the  53rd 
regiment  of  the  line." 

"  Do  you  recognize  him  ? " 

"Not  at  all." 

"  Are  you  sure  that  he  does  not  belong  to  your  regi- 
ment?" 

"  I  cannot  say  for  certain  :  there  are  some  conscripts  at  the 
depot  whom  I  have  never  seen.  But  I  am  ready  to  swear 
that  he  had  never  formed  part  of  the  2nd  battalion — which, 
by  the  way,  is  mine,  and  in  which  I  am  sergeant-major." 

Lecoq,  who  had  hitherto  remained  in  the  background, 
now  stepped  forward.  "  It  might  be  as  well,  "  he  sug- 
gested, "  to  note  the  numbers  marked  on  the  other  articles 
of  clothing." 

"That  is  a  very  good  idea,"  said  the  commissary, 
approvingly. 

"  Here  is  his  shako,"  added  the  young  police-agent. 
"  It  bears  the  number  3,129." 

The  officials  followed  Lecoq's  advice,  and  soon  dis- 
covered that  each  article  of  clothing  worn  by  the  unfor- 
tunate man  bore  a  different  number. 

"The  deuce!"  murmured  the  sergeant;  "there  is 
every  indication. — But  it  is  very  singular." 

Invited  to  consider  what  he  was  going  to  say,  the  brave 
trooper  evidently  made  an  effort  to  collect  his  intellectual 


MONSIEUR  LBCOQ.  53 

faculties.  "  I  would  stake  my  epaulettes  that  this  fellow 
never  was  a  soldier,"  he  said  at  last.  "  He  must  have 
disguised  himself  to  take  part  in  the  Shrove  Sunday  car- 
nival." 

"  Why  do  you  think  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  know  it  better  than  I  can  explain  it.  I  know 
it  by  his  hair,  by  his  nails,  by  his  whole  appearance,  by  a 
certain  je  ne  sais  quoi;  in  short,  I  know  it  by  everything 
and  by  nothing.  Why  look,  the  poor  devil  did  not  even 
know  how  to  put  on  his  shoes ;  he  has  laced  his  gaiters 
wrong  side  outwards."  Evidently  further  doubt  was  im- 
possible after  this  evidence,  which  confirmed  the  truth  of 
Lecoq's  first  remark  to  Inspector  Gevrol. 

"  Still,  if  this  person  was  a  civilian,  how  could  he  have 
procured  this  clothing  ?  "  insisted  the  commissary.  "  Could 
he  have  borrowed  it  from  the  men  in  your  company  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  possible ;  but  it  is  difficult  to  believe." 

"  Is  there  no  way  by  which  you  could  ascertain  ?  * 

"  Oh !  very  easily.  I  have  only  to  run  over  to  the  fort 
and  order  an  inspection  of  clothing." 

"  Do  so,"  approved  the  commissary ;  "  it  would  be  an 
excellent  way  of  getting  at  the  truth." 

But  Lecoq  had  just  thought  of  a  method  quite  as  con- 
vincing, and  much  more  prompt.  "  One  word,  sergeant," 
said  he,  "isn't  cast-off  military  clothing  sold  by  public 
auction  ? " 

"  Yes ;  at  least  once  a  year,  after  the  inspection." 

"  And  are  not  the  articles  thus  sold  marked  in  some 
way  ?  " 

"  Assuredly." 

"  Then  see  if  there  isn't  some  mark  of  the  kind  on  this 
poor  wretch's  uniform." 

The  sergeant  turned  up  the  collar  of  the  coat  and  ex- 
amined the  waist-band  of  the  pantaloons.  "You  are 
right,"  he  said,  "  these  are  condemned  garments." 

The  eyes  of  the  young  police-agent  sparkled.  "  We 
must  then  believe  that  the  poor  devil  purchased  this  cos- 
tume," he  observed.  "  Where  ?  Necessarily  at  the  Tem- 
ple, from  one  of  the  dealers  in  military  clothing.  There 
are  only  five  or  six  of  these  establishments.  I  will  go 
from  one  to  another  of  them,  and  the  person  who  sold 
these  clothes  will  certainly  recognise  them  by  some  trade 
mark." 


54  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

"  And  that  will  assist  us  very  much,"  growled  Gevrol. 

The  sergeant-major,  to  his  great  relief,  now  received 
permission  to  retire,  but  not  without  having  been  warned 
that  very  probably  the  commissary  would  require  his  depo- 
sition. 

The  moment  had  come  to  search  the  garments  of  the 
pretended  soldier,  and  the  commissary,  who  performed 
this  duty  himself,  hoped  that  some  clue  as  to  the  man's 
identity  would  be  forthcoming.  He  proceeded  with  his 
task,  at  the  same  time  dictating  to  one  of  the  men  a  proces- 
verbal  of  the  search ;  that  is  to  say,  a  minute  description 
of  all  the  articles  he  found  upon  the  dead  man's  person. 
In  the  right  hand  trousers  pocket  some  tobacco,  a  pipe, 
and  a  few  matches  were  found ;  in  the  left  hand  one,  a 
linen  handkerchief  of  good  quality,  but  unmarked,  and  a 
soiled  leather  pocket-book,  containing  seven  francs  and 
sixty  centimes. 

There  appeared  to  be  nothing  more,  and  the  commis- 
sary was  expressing  his  regret,  when,  on  carefully  examin- 
ing the  pocket-book  he  found  a  compartment  which  had 
at  first  escaped  his  notice,  being  hidden  by  a  leather  flap. 
This  compartment  contained  a  carefully  folded  paper. 
The  commissary  unfolded  it  and  read  the  contents  aloud  : 

"  My  dear  Gustave, — To-morrow,  Sunday  evening,  do 
not  fail  to  come  to  the  ball  at  the  Rainbow,  according  to 
our  agreement.  If  you  have  no  money  pass  by  my  house, 
and  I  will  leave  some  with  the  concierge,  who  will  give  it 
to  you. 

"  Be  at  the  ball  by  eight  o'clock.  If  I  am  not  already 
there,  it  will  not  be  long  before  I  make  my  appearance. 
Everything  is  going  on  satisfactorily. 

"  LACHENEUR." 

Alas !  what  did  this  letter  reveal  ?  Only  that  the  dead 
man's  name  was  Gustave ;  that  he  had  some  connection 
with  a  man  named  Lacheneur,  who  had  advanced  him 
money  for  a  certain  object;  and  that  they  had  met  at 
the  Rainbow  some  hours  before  the  murder. 

It  was  little — very  little — but  still  it  was  something. 
It  was  a  clue ;  and  in  this  absolute  darkness  even  th« 
faintest  gleam  of  light  was  eagerly  welcomed. 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  55 

*'  Lacheneur !  "  growled  Gevrol ;  "  the  poor  devil  ut- 
tered that  name  in  his  last  agony." 

"  Precisely,"  insisted  Father  Absinthe,  "  and  he  declared 
that  he  wished  to  revenge  himself  upon  him.  He  accused 
him  of  having  drawn  him  into  a  trap.  Unfortunately, 
death  cut  his  story  short." 

Lecoq  was  silent.  The  commissary  of  police  had  handed 
him  the  letter,  and  he  was  studying  it  with  the  closest  at- 
tention. The  paper  on  which  it  was  written  was  of  the 
ordinary  kind ;  the  ink  was  blue.  In  one  of  the  corners 
was  a  half-effaced  stamp,  of  which  one  could  just  distin- 
guish the  word — Beaumarchais. 

This  was  enough  for  Lecoq.  "  This  letter,"  he  thought, 
"  was  certainly  written  in  a  cafe  on  the  Boulevard  Beau- 
marchais. In  which  one  ?  I  must  ascertain  that  point, 
for  this  Lacheneur  must  be  found." 

While  the  agents  of  the  prefecture  were  gathered  around 
the  commissar)',  holding  council  and  deliberating,  the 
physicians  began  their  delicate  and  disagreeable  task. 
With  the  assistance  of  Father  Absinthe,  they  removed  the 
clothing  of  the  pretended  soldier,  and  then,  with  sleeves 
rolled  up,  they  bent  over  their  "  subject  "  like  surgeons  in 
the  schools  of  anatomy,  and  examined,  inspected,  and 
appraised  him  physically.  Very  willingly  would  the  younger 
doctor  have  dispensed  with  these  formalities,  which  he 
considered  very  ridiculous,  and  entirely  unnecessary ;  but 
the  old  physician  had  too  high  a  regard  for  his  profession, 
and  for  the  duty  he  had  been  called  upon  to  fulfil,  to  neg- 
lect the  slightest  detail.  Minutely,  and  with  the  most 
scrupulous  exactitude,  he  noted  the  height  of  the  dead 
man,  his  supposed  age,  the  nature  of  his  temperament, 
the  colour  and  the  length  of  his  hair,  and  the  degree  of 
development  of  his  muscular  system. 

Then  the  doctors  passed  to  an  examination  of  the 
wound.  Lecoq  had  judged  correctly.  The  medical  men 
declared  it  to  be  a  fracture  of  the  base  of  the  skull.  It 
could,  they  stated,  only  have  been  caused  by  some  instru- 
ment with  a  very  broad  surface,  or  by  a  violent  knock  of 
the  head  against  some  hard  substance  of  considerable 
magnitude. 

But  no  weapon,  other  than  the  revolver,  had  been  found  ; 
and  it  was  evidently  not  heavy  enough  to  produce  such  a 
wound.  There  must,  then  necessarily,  have  been  a  hand- 


JO  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

to-hand  struggle  between  the  pretended  soldier  and  the 
murderer;  and  the  latter,  seizing  his  adversary  by  the 
throat,  had  dashed  him  violently  against  the  wall.  The 
presence  of  some  very  tiny  but  very  numerous  spots  of 
extravasated  blood  about  the  neck,  made  this  theory  ex- 
tremely plausible. 

No  other  wound,  not  even  a  bruise  or  a  scratch,  was  to 
be  found.  Hence,  it  became  evident  that  this  terrible 
struggle  must  have  been  exceedingly  short.  The  murder 
of  the  pretended  soldier  must  have  been  consummated  be- 
tween the  moment  when  the  squad  of  police  heard  the 
shrieks  of  despair,  and  the  moment  when  Lecoq  peered 
through  the  shutter  and  saw  the  victim  fall. 

The  examination  of  the  other  murdered  men  required 
different  but  even  greater  precautions  than  those  adopted 
by  the  doctors  in  their  inspection  of  the  pseudo  soldier. 
The  position  of  these  two  victims  had  been  respected ;  they 
were  still  lying  across  the  hearth  as  they  had  fallen,  and 
their  attitude  was  a  matter  of  great  importance,  since  it 
might  have  decisive  bearing  on  the  case.  Now,  this  atti- 
tude was  such  that  one  could  not  fail  to  be  impressed  with 
the  idea  that  with  both  these  men  death  had  been  instan- 
taneous. They  were  both  stretched  out  upon  their  backs, 
their  limbs  extended,  and  their  hands  wide  open. 

No  contraction  or  extension  of  the  muscles,  no  trace  of 
conflict  could  be  perceived ;  it  seemed  evident  that  they 
had  been  taken  unawares,  the  more  so  as  their  faces  ex- 
pressed the  most  intense  terror. 

"  Thus,"  said  the  old  doctor,  "  we  may  reasonably  sup- 
pose that  they  were  stupefied  by  some  entirely  unexpected, 
strange,  and  frightful  spectacle.  I  have  come  across  this 
terrified  expression  depicted  upon  the  faces  of  the  dead 
people  more  than  once.  I  recollect  noticing  it  upon  the 
features  of  a  woman  who  died  suddenly  from  the  shock 
she  experienced  when  one  of  her  neighbours,  with  the 
view  of  playing  her  a  trick,  entered  her  house  disguised 
as  a  ghost." 

Lecoq  followed  the  physician's  explanations,  and  tried 
to  make  them  agree  with  the  vague  hypotheses  that  were 
revolving  in  his  own  brain.  But  who  could  these  individ- 
uals be  ?  Would  they,  in  death,  guard  the  secret  of  their 
identity,  as  the  other  victim  had  done  ? 

The  first  subject  examined  by  the  physicians  was  ovei 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  57 

fifty  years  of  age.  His  hair  was  very  thin  and  quite  grey 
and  his  face  was  closely  shaven,  excepting  a  thick  tuft  of 
hair  on  his  rather  prominent  chin.  He  was  very  poorly 
clad,  wearing  a  soiled  woollen  blouse  and  a  pair  of  dilapi- 
dated trousers  hanging  in  rags  over  his  boots  which  were 
very  much  trodden  down  at  the  heels.  The  old  doctor 
declared  that  this  man  must  have  been  instantly  killed  by 
a  bullet.  The  size  of  the  circular  wound,  the  absence  of 
blood  around  its  edge,  and  the  blackened  and  burnt  state 
of  the  flesh  demonstrated  this  fact  with  almost  mathemati- 
cal precision. 

The  great  difference  that  exists  in  wounds  made  by  fir& 
arms,  according  to  the  distance  from  which  the  death-deal- 
ing missile  comes,  was  seen  when  the  physicians  began  to 
examine  the  last  of  the  murdered  men.  The  ball  that  had 
caused  the  latter's  death  had  scarcely  crossed  a  yard  of 
space  before  reaching  him,  and  his  wound  was  not  nearly 
so  hideous  in  aspect  as  the  other's.  This  individual,  who 
was  at  least  fifteen  years  younger  than  his  companion,  was 
short  and  remarkable  ugly ;  his  face,  which  was  quite 
beardless,  being  pitted  all  over  by  the  small-pox.  His 
garb  was  such  as  is  worn  by  the  worst  frequenters  of  the 
barriere.  His  trousers  were  of  a  grey  checked  material, 
and  his  blouse  turned  back  at  the  throat  was  blue.  It 
was  noticed  that  his  boots  had  been  blackened  quite  re- 
cently. The  smart  glazed  cap  that  lay  on  the  floor  beside 
him  was  in  harmony  with  his  carefully  curled  hair  and 
gaudy  necktie. 

These  were  the  only  facts  that  the  physicians'  report  set 
forth  in  technical  terms,  this  was  the  only  information  ob- 
tained by  the  most  careful  investigation.  The  two  men's 
pockets  were  explored  and  turned  inside  out;  but  they 
contained  nothing  that  gave  the  slightest  clue  to  their 
identity,  either  as  regards  name,  social  position,  or  profes- 
sion. There  was  not  even  the  slightest  indication  on  any 
of  these  points,  not  a  letter,  nor  an  address,  not  a  fragment 
of  paper,  nothing — not  even  such  common  articles  of  per- 
sonal use,  as  a  tobacco  pouch,  a  knife,  or  a  pipe  which 
might  be  recognised,  and  thus  establish  the  owner's  iden- 
tity. A  little  tobacco  in  a  paper-bag,  a  couple  of  pocket- 
handkerchiefs  that  were  unmarked,  a  packet  of  cigarettes 
— these  were  the  only  articles  discovered  beyond  the  money 
which  the  victims  carried  loose  in  their  pockets.  On  this 


58  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

point,  it  should  be  mentioned  that  the  elder  man  had  sixty 
seven  francs  about  him,  and  the  younger  one,  two  louis. 

Rarely  had  the  police  found  themselves  in  the  presence 
of  so  strange  an  affair,  without  the  slightest  clue  to  guide 
them.  Of  course,  there  was  the  fact  itself,  as  evidenced 
by  the  bodies  of  the  three  victims ;  but  the  authorities 
were  quite  ignorant  of  the  circumstances  that  had  attended 
and  of  the  motive  that  had  inspired  the  crime.  Certainly, 
they  might  hope  with  the  powerful  means  of  investigation 
at  their  disposal  to  finally  arrive  at  the  truth  in  the  course 
of  time,  and  after  repeated  efforts.  But,  in  the  meanwhile, 
all  was  mystery,  and  so  strangely  did  the  case  present  it- 
self that  it  could  not  safely  be  said  who  was  really  respon 
sible  for  the  horrible  tragedy  at  the  Poivriere. 

The  murderer  had  certainly  been  arrested;  but  if  he 
persisted  in  his  obstinacy,  how  were  they  to  ascertain  his 
name  ?  He  protested  that  he  had  merely  killed  in  self- 
defence.  How  could  it  be  shown  that  such  was  not  the 
case  ?  Nothing  was  known  concerning  the  victims  ;  one 
of  whom  had  with  his  dying  breath  accused  himself.  Then 
again,  an  inexplicable  influence  tied  the  Widow  Chupin's 
tongue.  Two  women,  one  of  whom  had  lost  an  earring 
valued  at  5,000  francs,  had  witnessed  the  struggle — then 
disappeared.  An  accomplice,  after  two  acts  of  unheard  of 
audacity,  had  also  made  his  escape.  And  all  these  people 
— the  women,  the  murderer,  the  keeper  of  the  saloon,  the 
accomplice,  and  the  victims — were  equally  strange  and 
mysterious,  equally  liable  not  to  be  what  they  seemed. 

Perhaps  the  commissary  of  police  thought  he  would 
spend  a  very  unpleasant  quarter  of  an  hour  at  the  prefec- 
ture when  he  reported  the  case.  Certainly,  he  spoke  of 
the  crime  in  a  very  despondent  tone. 

"  It  will  now  be  best,"  he  said  at  last,  "  to  transport 
these  three  bodies  to  the  Morgue.  There  they  will  doubt- 
less be  identified.  He  reflected  for  a  moment,  and  then 
added  ;  "  And  to  think  that  one  of  these  dead  men  is  per- 
haps Lacheneur  himself  !  " 

"  That  is  scarcely  possible,"  said  Lecoq.  "  The  spuri- 
ous soldier,  being  the  last  to  die,  had  seen  his  companions 
fall.  If  he  had  supposed  Lacheneur  to  be  dead,  he  would 
not  have  spoken  of  vengeance." 

Gevrol,  who  for  the  past  two  hours  had  pretended  to 
pay  no  attention  to  the  proceedings,  now  approached.  He 


MONSIEUR  LEGOQ.  59 

was  not  the  man  to  yield  even  to  the  strongest  evidence. 
"  If  Monsieur,  the  Commissary,  will  listen  to  me,  he  shall 
hear  my  opinion,  which  is  a  trifle  more  definite  than  M. 
Lecoq's  fancies." 

Before  he  could  say  any  more,  the  sound  of  a  vehicle 
stopping  before  the  door  of  the  cabin  interrupted  him,  and 
an  instant  afterwards  the  investigating  magistrate  entered 
the  room. 

All  the  officials  assembled  at  the  Poivriere  knew  ax 
least  by  sight  the  magistrate  who  now  made  his  appear- 
ance, and  Gevrol,  an  old  habitue  of  the  Palais  de  Justice, 
mechanically  murmured  his  name  :  "  M.  Maurice  d'Es- 
corval." 

He  was  the  son  of  that  famous  Baron  d'Escorval,  who,  in 
1815,  sealed  his  devotion  to  the  empire  with  his  blood, 
and  upon  whom  Napoleon,  in  the  Memorial  of  St.  Helena, 
pronounced  this  magnificent  eulogium  :  "  Men  as  honest, 
as  he,  may,  I  believe,  exist :  but  more  honest,  no,  it  is 
not  possible." 

Having  entered  upon  his  duties  as  magistrate  early  in 
life,  and  being  endowed  with  remarkable  talents,  it  was  at 
first  supposed  that  the  younger  d'Escorval  would  rise  to 
the  most  exalted  rank  in  his  profession.  But  he  had  dis- 
appointed all  such  prognostications  by  resolutely  refusing 
the  more  elevatedfpositions  that  were  offered  to  him,  in  order 
to  retain  his  modest  but  useful  functions  in  the  public 
prosecutor's  officers  at  Paris.  To  explain  his  repeated 
refusals,  he  said  that  life  in  the  capital  had  more  charms 
for  him  than  the  most  enviable  advancement  in  provincial 
centres.  But  it  was  hard  to  understand  this  declaration 
for  in  spite  of  his  brilliant  connections  and  large  fortune, 
he  had,  ever  since  the  death  of  his  eldest  brother,  led  a 
most  retired  life,  his  existence  merely  being  revealed  by 
his  untiring  labours  and  the  good  he  did  to  those  around 
him. 

He  was  now  about  forty-two  years  of  age,  but  appeared 
much  younger,  although  a  few  furrows  already  crossed 
his  brow.  One  would  have  admired  his  face,  had  it  not 
heen  for  the  puzzling  immobility  that  marred  its  beauty, 
the  sarcastic  curl  of  his  thin  lips,  and  the  gloomy  expres- 
sion of  his  pale-blue  eyes.  To  say  that  he  was  cold  and 
grave,  did  not  express  the  truth,  it  was  saying  too  little. 


60  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

He  was  gravity  and  coldness  personified,  with  a  shade  of 
hauteur  added. 

Impressed  by  the  horror  of  the  scene  the  instant  he 
placed  his  foot  upon  the  threshold,  M.  d'Escorval  acknowl- 
edged the  presence  of  the  physicians  and  the  commissary 
by  a  slight  nod  of  the  head.  The  others  in  the  room  had 
no  existence  so  far  as  he  was  concerned.  At  once  his 
faculties  went  to  work.  He  studied  the  ground,  and  care- 
fully noted  all  the  surroundings  with  the  attentive  sagacity 
of  a  magistrate  who  realises  the  immense  weight  of  even 
the  slightest  detail,  and  who  fully  appreciates  the  elo- 
quence of  circumstantial  evidence. 

"This  is  a  serious  affair,"  he  said  gravely;  "very 
serious." 

The  commissary's  only  response  was  to  lift  his  eyes  to 
heaven.  A  gesture  that  plainly  implied,  "  I  quite  agree 
with  you  !  "  The  fact  is,  that  for  the  past  two  hours  the 
worthy  commissary's  responsibility  had  weighed  heavily 
upon  him,  and  he  secretly  blessed  the  investigating  magis- 
trate for  relieving  him  of  it. 

"  The  public  prosecutor  was  unable  to  accompany  me," 
resumed  M.  d'Escorval,  "he  has  not  the  gift  of  omnipres- 
ence, and  I  doubt  if  it  will  be  possible  for  him  to  join  me 
here.  Let  us,  therefore,  begin  operations  at  once." 

The  curiosity  of  those  present  had  become  intense  ;  and 
the  commissary  only  expressed  the  general  feeling  when 
he  said :  "  You  have  undoubtedly  questioned  the  murderer, 
sir,  and  have  learnt " 

"  I  have  learnt  nothing,"  interrupted  M.  d'Escorval, 
apparently  much  astonished  at  the  interruption. 

He  took  a  chair  and  sat  himself  down,  and  while  his 
clerk  was  busy  in  authenticating  the  commissary's  proces- 
verbal,  he  began  to  read  the  report  prepared  by  Lecoq. 

Pale,  agitated,  and  nervous,  the  young  police-agent  tried 
to  read  upon  the  magistrate's  impassive  face  the  impres- 
sion produced  by  the  document.  His  future  depended  up- 
on the  magistrate's  approval  or  disapproval ;  and  it  was 
not  with  a  fuddled  mind  like  that  of  Father  Absinthe  that 
he  had  now  to  deal,  but  with  a  superior  intelligence. 

"  If  I  could  only  plead  my  own  cause,"  he  thought 
"  What  are  cold  written  phrases  in  comparison  with  spoken, 
living  words,  palpitating  with  emotion  and  imbued  with 
the  convictions  of  the  speaker." 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  61 

However,  he  was  soon  re-assured.  The  magistrate's 
face  retained  its  immobility,  but  again  and  again  did  M. 
d'Escorval  nod  his  head  in  token  of  approval,  and  occa- 
sionally some  point  more  ingenious  than  the  others  extorted 
from  his  lips  the  exclamations  :  "  Not  bad  ! — very  good  !  " 

When  he  had  finished  the  perusal  he  turned  to  the  com- 
missary and  remarked :  "  All  this  is  very  unlike  your 
report  of  this  morning,  which  represented  the  affair  as  a 
low  broil  between  a  party  of  miserable  vagabonds." 

The  observation  was  only  too  just  and  fair ;  and  the 
commissary  deeply  regretted  that  he  had  trusted  to  Ger- 
vol's  representations,  and  remained  in  bed.  "  This  morn- 
ing," he  responded  evasively,  "  I  only  gave  you  my  first 
impressions.  These  have  been  modified  by  subsequent 
researches,  so  that — " 

"  Oh  !  "  interrupted  the  magistrate,  "  I  did  not  intend 
to  reproach  you,  on  the  contrary,  I  must  congratulate  you. 
One  could  not  have  done  better  nor  acted  more  promptly. 
The  investigation  that  has  been  carried  out  shows  great 
penetration  and  research,  and  the  results  are  given  with 
unusual  clearness,  and  wonderful  precision." 
.  Lecoq's  head  whirled. 

The  commissary  hesitated  for  an  instant.  At  first  he 
was  sorely  tempted  to  confiscate  this  praise  to  his  own 
profit.  If  he  drove  away  the  unworthy  thought,  it  was 
because  he  was  an  honest  man,  and  more  than  that, 
because  he  was  not  displeased  to  have  the  opportunity  to 
do  Gevrol  a  bad  turn  and  punish  him  for  his  presumptu- 
ous folly. 

"  I  must  confess,"  he  said  with  some  embarrassment, 
"  that  the  merit  of  this  investigation  does  not  belong  to 
me." 

"  To  whom,  then,  shall  I  attribute  it — to  the  inspector  ?  * 
thought  M.  d'Escoval,  not  without  surprise,  for  having  occa- 
sionally employed  Gevrol,  he  did  not  expect  from  him  such 
ingenuity  and  sagacity  as  was  displayed  in  this  report.  Is 
it  you,  then,  who  have  conducted  this  investigation  so 
ably  ? "  he  asked. 

"  Upon  my  word,  no  ! "  responded  Inspector  Gevrol. 
"  I,  myself,  am  not  so  clever  as  all  that.  I  content  myself 
with  telling  what  I  actually  discover;  and  I  only  give 
proofs  when  I  have  them  in  hand.  May  I  be  hung  if  the 
grounds  of  this  report  have  any  existence  save  in  the 


62  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

brains  of  the  man  who  imagined  them."  Perhaps  the 
inspector  really  believed  what  he  said,  being  one  of  those 
persons  who  are  blinded  by  vanity  to  such  a  degree  that, 
with  the  most  convincing  evidence  before  their  eyes,  they 
obstinately  deny  it. 

"  And  yet,"  insisted  the  magistrate,  "  these  women 
whose  foot-prints  have  been  detected  must  have  existed. 
The  accomplice  who  left  the  flakes  of  wool  adhering  to 
the  plank  is  a  real  being.  This  earring  is  a  positive,  pal- 
pable proof." 

Gevrol  had  hard  work  to  refrain  from  shrugging  his 
shoulders.  "  All  this  can  be  satisfactorily  explained," 
he  said,  "  without  a  search  of  twelve  or  fourteen  hours. 
That  the  murderer  had  an  accomplice,  is  possible.  The 
presence  of  the  women  is  very  natural.  Wherever  there 
are  male  thieves,  you  will  find  female  thieves  as  well. 
As  for  the  diamond — what  does  that  prove?  That  the 
scoundrels  had  just  met  with  a  stroke  of  good  luck,  that 
they  had  come  here  to  divide  their  booty,  and  that  the 
quarrel  arose  from  the  division." 

This  was  an  explanation,  and  such  a  plausible  one,  that 
M.  d'Escorval  was  silent,  reflecting  before  he  announced 
his  decision.  "  Decidedly,"  he  declared  at  last,  "  de- 
cidedly, I  adopt  the  hypothesis  set  forth  in  the  report. 
Who  prepared  it  ? " 

Gevrol's  face  turned  red  with  anger.  "One  of  my 
men,"  he  replied,  "a  clever,  adroit  fellow,  Monsieur 
Lecoq.  Come  forward,  Lecoq,  that  the  magistrate  may 
see  you." 

The. young'man  advanced,  his  'lips  tightly  compressed 
so  as  to  conceal  a  smile  of  satisfaction  which  almost 
betrayed  itself.  "  My  report,  sir,  is  only  a  summary,"  he 
began,  "  but  I  have  certain  ideas — " 

"  Which  you  will  acquaint  me  with,  when  I  ask  for 
them,"  interrupted  the  magistrate.  And  oblivious  of 
Lecoq's  chagrin,  he  drew  from  his  clerk's  portfolio  two 
forms,  which  he  filled  up  and  handed  to  Gevrol,  saying  : 
"  Here  are  two  orders  ;  take  them  to  the  station,  where 
the  murderer  and  the  landlady  of  this  cabin  are  confined, 
and  have  them  conducted  to  the  prefecture,  where  they 
will  be  privately  examined." 

Having  given  these  directions,  M.  d'Escorval  was  tun> 
ing  ttowards  the  physicians,  when  Lecoq,  at  the  risk  of 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  63 

a  second  rebuff,  interposed.  "  May  I  venture,  sir,  to  beg 
of  you  to  confide  this  mission  to  me  ? "  he  asked  of  the 
investigating  magistrate. 

"  Impossible,  I  may  have  need  of  you  here." 

"  I  desired,  sir,  to  collect  certain  evidence  and  an  op- 
portunity to  do  so  may  not  present  itself  again." 

The  magistrate  perhaps  fathomed  the  young  man's 
motive.  "  Then,  let  it  be  so,"  he  replied,  "  but  after  your 
task  is  completed  you  must  wait  for  me  at  the  prefecture, 
where  I  shall  proceed  as  soon  as  I  have  finished  here. 
You  may  go." 

Lecoq  did  not  wait  for  the  order  to  be  repeated.  He 
snatched  up  the  papers,  and  hastened  away. 

He  literally  flew  over  the  ground,  and  strange  to  say  he 
no  longer  experienced  any  fatigue  from  the  labours  of 
the  preceding  night.  Never  had  he  felt  so  strong  and 
alert,  either  in  body  or  mind.  He  was  very  hopeful  of 
success.  He  had  every  confidence  in  himself,  and  his 
happiness  would  indeed  have  been  complete  if  he  had  had 
another  judge  to  deal  with.  But  M.  d'Escorval  overawed 
him  to  such  a  degree  that  he  became  almost  paralyzed  in 
his  presence.  With  what  a  disdainful  glance  the  magis- 
trate had  surveyed  him  !  .With  what  an  imperious  tone 
he  had  imposed  silence  upon  him — and  that,  too,  when  he 
had  found  his  work  deserving  of  commendation. 

"  Still,  never  mind,"  the  young  detective  mentally 
exclaimed,  "no  one  ever  tastes  perfect  happiness  here 
below." 

And  concentrating  all  his  thoughts  on  the  task  before 
him,  he  hurried  on  his  way. 


VII. 

WHEN,  after  a  rapid  walk  of  twenty  minutes,  Lecoq 
reached  the  police-station  near  the  Barriere  d'ltalie,  the 
door-keeper,  with  his  pipe  in  his  mouth,  was  pacing 
slowly  to  and  fro  before  the  guard-house.  His  thoughtful 
air,  and  the  anxious  glances  he  cast  every  now  and  then 
towards  one  of  the  little  grated  windows  of  the  building 
sufficed  to  indicate  that  some  very  rare  bird  indeed  had 
been  entrusted  to  his  keeping.  As  soon  as  he  recognized 
Lecoq,  his  brow  cleared,  and  he  paused  in  his  promenade. 


154  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

"  Ah,  well ! "  he  inquired,  "  what  news  do  you  bring  ? " 

"  I  have  an  order  to  conduct  the  prisoners  to  the 
prefecture." 

The  keeper  rubbed  his  hands,  and  his  smile  of  satis- 
faction plainly  implied  that  he  felt  a  load  the  less  on  his 
shoulders. 

"  Capital !  capital ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  The  Black  Maria, 
the  prison  van,  will  pass  here  in  less  than  an  hour ;  we 
will  throw  them  in,  and  hurry  the  driver  off—  " 

Lecoq  was  obliged  to  interrupt  the  keeper's  transports 
of  satisfaction.  "  Are  the  prisoners  alone  ? "  he  inquired. 

"  Quite  alone  :  the  woman  in  one  cell,  and  the  man  in 
the  other.  This  has  been  a  remarkably  quiet  night,  for 
Shrove  Sunday  !  Quite  surprising  indeed !  It  is  true 
your  hunt  was  interrupted." 

"  You  had  a  drunken  man  here,  however." 

"  No — yes — that's  true — this  morning  just  at  daybreak. 
A  poor  devil,  who  is  under  a  great  obligation  to  Gevrol." 

The  involuntary  irony  of  this  remark  did  not  escape 
Lecoq.  "  Yes,  under  a  great  obligation,  indeed ! "  he 
said  with  a  derisive  laugh. 

"  You  may  laugh  as  much  as  you  like,"  retorted  the 
keeper,  "  but  such  is  really  the  case ;  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  Gevrol  the  man  would  certainly  have  been  run  over." 

"  And  what  has  become  of  him  ? " 

The  keeper  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "You  ask  me 
too  much,"  he  responded.  He  was  a  worthy  fellow  who 
had  been  spending  the  night  at  a  friend's  house,  and  on 
coming  out  into  the  open  air,  the  wine  flew  into  his  head. 
He  told  us  all  about  it  when  he  got  sober,  half  an  hour 
afterwards.  I  never  saw  a  man  so  vexed  as  he  was.  He 
wept,  and  stammered :  "  The  father  of  a  family,  and  at 
my  age  too  !  Oh  !  it  is  shameful !  What  shall  I  say  to 
my  wife  ?  What  will  the  children  think  ? " 

"  Did  he  talk  much  about  his  wife  ? " 

"  He  talked  about  nothing  else.  He  mentioned  her 
name — Eudosia  Leocadie,  or  some  name  of  that  sort. 
He  declared  that  he  should  be  ruined  if  we  kept  him  here. 
He  begged  us  to  send  for  the  commissary  to  go  to  his 
house,  and  when  we  set  him  free,  I  thought  he  would  go 
mad  with  joy ;  he  kissed  our  hands,  and  thanked  us  again 
and  again ! " 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  65 

"  And  did  you  place  him  in  the  same  cage  as  the  mur- 
derer?" inquired  Lecoq. 

"  Of  course." 

"  Then  they  talked  with  each  other." 

"  Talked  ?  Why,  the  drunkard  was  so  '  gone '  I  tell 
you,  that  he  couldn't  have  said  '  bread '  distinctly.  When 
he  was  placed  in  a  cell,  bang  !  He  fell  down  like  a  log  of 
wood.  As  soon  as  he  recovered,  we  let  him  out.  I'm 
sure,  they  didn't  talk  to  each  other." 

The  young  police-agent  had  grown  very  thoughtful.  "  I 
was  evidently  right,"  he  murmured. 

"  What  did  you  say  ? "  inquired  the  keeper. 

"Nothing,"  replied  Lecoq,  who  was  not  inclined  to  com- 
municate his  reflections  to  the  custodian  of  the  guard 
house.  These  reflections  of  his  were  by  no  means  pleasant 
ones.  "  I  was  right,"  he  thought ;  "  this  pretended  drunk- 
ard was  none  other  than  the  accomplice.  He  is  evidently 
an  adroit,  audacious,  cool-headed  fellow.  While  we  were 
tracking  his  foot-prints  he  was  watching  us.  When  we 
had  got  to  some  distance,  he  was  bold  enough  to  enter  the 
hovel.  Then  he  came  here  and  compelled  them  to  arrest 
him  ;  and  thanks  to  an  assumption  of  childish  simplicity, 
he  succeeded  in  finding  an  opportunity  to  speak  with  the 
murderer.  He  played  his  part  perfectly.  Still,  I 
know  that  he  did  play  a  part,  and  that  is  something.  I 
know  that  one  must  believe  exactly  the  opposite  of  what 
he  said.  He  talked  of  his  family,  his  wife  and  children — 
hence,  he  has  neither  children,  wife,  nor  family." 

Lecoq  suddenly  checked  himself,  remembering  that  he 
had  no  time  to  waste  in  conjectures.  "  What  kind  of  fellow 
was  this  drunkard  ? "  he  inquired. 

"  He  was  tall  and  stout,  with  full  ruddy  cheeks,  a  pair 
of  white  whiskers,  small  eyes,  a  broad  flat  nose,  and  a  good- 
natured,  jovial  manner." 

"  How  old  would  you  suppose  him  to  be  ? " 

"  Between  forty  and  fifty." 

"  Did  you  form  any  idea  of  his  profession  ? " 

"  It's  my  opinion,  that  what  with  his  soft  cap  and  his 
heavy  brown  overcoat,  he  must  be  either  a  clerk  or  the 
keeper  of  some  little  shop." 

Having  obtained  this  description,  which  agreed  with  the 
result  of  his  investigations,  Lecoq  was  about  to  enter  the 
station-house  when  a  sudden  thought  brought  him  to  a 

f 


66  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

stand-still.  "  I  hope  this  man  has  had  no  communicai  tr~A 
with  this  Widow  Chupin  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

The  keeper  laughed  heartily.  "  How  could  he  have  hnd 
any  ? "  he  responded.  "  Isn't  the  old  woman  alone  in  her  ceiJ  ? 
Ah,  the  old  wretch  !  She  has  been  cursing  and  threatening 
ever  since  she  arrived.  Never  in  my  whole  life  have  I 
heard  such  language  as  she  has  used.  It  has  been  enough 
to  make  the  very  stones  blush ;  even  the  drunken  man 
was  so  shocked  that  he  went  to  the  grating  in  the  door, 
and  told  her  to  be  quiet." 

Lecoq's  glance  and  gesture  were  so  expressive  of  impa- 
tience and  wrath  that  the  keeper  paused  in  his  recital  much 
perturbed.  "  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  he  stammered.  "  Why 
are  you  angry  ?  " 

"Because,"  replied  Lecoq,  furiously,  "because " 

Not  wishing  to  disclose  the  real  cause  of  his  anger,  he  en- 
tered the  station-house,  saying  that  he  wanted  to  see  the 
prisoner. 

Left  alone,  the  keeper  began  to  swear  in  his  turn. 
"  These  police-agents  are  all  alike,"  he  grumbled. 
"  They  question  you,  you  tell  them  all  they  desire  to  know  ; 
and  afterwards,  if  you  venture  to  ask  them  anything,  they 
reply  :  *  nothing,'  or  '  because.'  They  have  too  much  au- 
thority ;  it  makes  them  proud." 

Looking  through  the  little  latticed  window  in  the  door, 
by  which  the  men  on  guard  watch  the  prisoners,  Lecoq 
eagerly  examined  the  appearance  of  the  assumed  murderer. 
He  was  obliged  to  ask  himself  if  this  was  really  the  same 
man  he  had  seen  some  hours  previously  at  the  Poivriere, 
standing  on  the  threshold  of  the  inner  door,  and  holding 
the  whole  squad  of  police-agents  in  check  by  the  intense 
fury  of  his  attitude.  Now,  on  the  contrary,  he  seemed  as 
it  were  the  personification  of  weakness  and  despondency. 
He  was  seated  on  a  bench  opposite  the  grating  in  the  door, 
his  elbows  resting  on  his  knees,  his  chin  upon  his  hand, 
his  under  lip  hanging  low  and  his  eyes  fixed  upon  va- 
cancy. 

"  No,"  murmured  Lecoq,  "  no,  this  man  is  not  what  he 
seems  to  be." 

So  saying  he  entered  the  cell,  the  culprit  raised  his  head, 
gave  the  detective  an  indifferent  glance  but  did  not  utter  a 
word. 

"  Well,  how  goes  it  ?  "  asked  Lecoq. 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  67 

"  I  am  innocent !  "  responded  the  prisoner,  in  a  hoarse, 
discordant  voice. 

"  I  hope  so,  I  am  sure — but  that  is  for  the  magistrate  to 
decide.  I  came  to  see  if  you  wanted  anything." 

"  No,"  replied  the  murderer,  but  a  second  later  he 
changed  his  mind.  "  All  the  same,"  he  said,  "  I  shouldn't 
mind  a  crust  and  a  drink  of  wine." 

"  You  shall  have  them,"  replied  Lecoq,  who  at  once 
went  out  to  forage  in  the  neighbourhood  for  eatables  of 
some  sort.  In  his  opinion,  if  the  murderer  had  asked  for 
a  drink  after  at  first  refusing  to  partake  of  anything,  it  was 
solely  with  the  view  of  conveying  the  idea  that  he  was 
really  the  kind  of  man  he  pretended  to  be. 

At  all  events,  whoever  he  might  be,  the  prisoner  ate  with 
an  excellent  appetite.  He  then  took  up  the  large  glass  of 
wine  that  had  been  brought  him,  drained  it  slowly,  and  re- 
marked. "  That's  capital !  There  can  be  nothing  to  beat 
that ! " 

This  seeming  satisfaction  greatly  disappointed  Lecoq, 
who  had  selected,  as  a  test,  one  of  those  horribly  thick, 
bluish,  nauseous  mixtures,  in  vogue  around  the  barrieres — 
hoping,  nay  almost  expecting,  that  the  murderer  would  not 
drink  it  without  some  sign  of  repugnance.  And  yet  the  con- 
trary proved  the  case.  However,  the  young  detective  had 
no  time  to  ponder  over  the  circumstance,  for  a  rumble  of 
wheels  now  announced  the  approach  of  that  lugubrious  ve- 
hicle, the  Black  Maria. 

When  the  Widow  Chupin  was  removed  from  her  cell  she 
fought  and  scratched  and  cried  "  Murder  1 "  at  the  top  of 
her  voice ;  and  it  was  only  by  sheer  force  that  she  was  at 
length  got  into  the  van.  Then  it  was  that  the  officials 
turned  to  the  assassin.  Lecoq  certainly  expected  some 
sign  of  repugnance  now,  and  he  watched  the  prisoner 
closely.  But  he  was  again  doomed  to  disappointment. 
The  culprit  entered  the  vehicle  in  the  most  unconcerned 
manner,  and  took  possession  of  his  compartment  like  one 
accustomed  to  it,  knowing  the  most  comfortable  position 
to  assume  in  such  close  quarters. 

"  Ah  !  what  an  unfortunate  morning,"  murmured  Lecoq, 
disconsolately.  "  Still  I  will  lie  in  wait  for  him  at  the  pre- 
fecture." 

When  the  door  of  the  prison-van  had  been  securely 
closed,  the  driver  cracked  his  whip,  and  the  sturdy  horsei 


68  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

started  off  at  a  brisk  trot.  Lecoq  had  taken  his  seat  'in 
front,  between  the  driver  and  the  guard;  but  his  mind 
was  so  engrossed  with  his  own  thoughts  that  he  heard 
nothing  of  their  conversation,  which  was  very  jovial,  al- 
though frequently  interrupted  by  the  shrill  voice  of  the 
Widow  Chupin,  who  sang  and  yelled  her  imprecations  al- 
ternately. 

It  is  needless,  however,  to  recapitulate  her  oaths ;  let 
us  rather  follow  the  train  of  Lecoq's  meditation.  By  what 
means  could  he  secure  some  clue  to  the  murderer's  iden- 
tity ?  He  was  still  convinced  that  the  prisoner  must  belong 
to  the  higher  ranks  of  society.  After  all,  it  was  not  so  ex- 
traordinary that  he  should  have  succeeded  in  feigning  an 
appetite,  that  he  should  have  concealed  his  distaste  for  a 
nauseous  beverage,  and  that  he  should  have  entered  the 
Black  Maria  without  hesitation.  Such  conduct  was  quite 
possible,  indeed  almost  probable  on  the  part  of  a  man,  en- 
dowed with  considerable  strength  of  will,  and  realising  the 
imminence  of  his  peril.  But  granting  this,  would  he  be 
equally  able  to  hide  his  feelings  when  he  was  obliged  to 
submit  to  the  humiliating  formalities  that  awaited  him — 
formalities  which  in  certain  cases  can,  and  must  be,  pushed 
even  to  the  verge  of  insult  and  outrage  ? 

No  ;  Lecoq  could  not  believe  that  this  would  be  possible. 
He  felt  sure  that  the  disgraceful  position  in  which  the 
prisoner  would  find  himself,  would  cause  him  to  revolt,  to 
lose  his  self-control,  to  utter  some  word  that  might  give 
the  desired  clue. 

It  was  not  until  the  gloomy  vehicle  had  turned  off  the 
Pont  Neuf  on  to  the  Quai  de  PHorloge,  that  the  young 
detective  became  conscious  of  what  was  transpiring  around 
him.  Soon  the  van  passed  through  an  open  gateway,  and 
drew  up  in  a  small,  damp  court-yard. 

Lecoq  immediately  alighted,  and  opened  the  door  of  the 
compartment  in  which  the  supposed  murderer  was  con- 
fined, exclaiming,  as  he  did  so  "  Here  we  are,  get  out." 
There  was  no  fear  of  the  prisoner  escaping.  The  iron 
gate  had  been  closed,  and  at  least  a  dozen  agents  were 
standing  near  at  hand,  waiting  to  have  a  look  at  the  new 
arrivals. 

The  prisoner  slowly  stepped  to  the  ground.  His  ex- 
pression of  face  remained  unchanged,  and  each  gesture 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  <5g 

evinced  the  perfect  indifference  of  a  man  accustomed  to 
such  ordeals. 

Lecoq  scrutinized  his  demeanour  as  attentively  as  an 
anatomist  might  have  watched  the  action  of  a  muscle. 
He  noted  that  the  prisoner  seemed  to  experience  a  sensa- 
tion of  satisfaction  directly  his  foot  touched  the  pavement 
of  the  court-yard,  that  he  drew  a  long  breath,  and  then 
stretched  and  shook  himself,  as  if  to  regain  the  elasticity 
of  his  limbs,  cramped  by  confinement  in  the  narrow  com- 
partment from  which  he  had  just  emerged.  Then  he 
glanced  around  him,  and  a  scarcely  perceptible  smile 
played  upon  his  lips.  One  might  have  sworn  that  the 
place  was  familiar  to  him,  that  he  was  well  acquainted 
with  these  high  grim  walls,  these  grated  windows,  these 
heavy  doors — in  short,  with  all  the  sinister  belongings  of  a 
prison. 

"  Good  Lord  ! "  murmured  Lecoq,  greatly  chagrined. 
"  does  he  indeed  recognize  the  place  ? " 

And  his  sense  of  disappointment  and  disquietude  in- 
creased when,  without  waiting  for  a  word,  a  motion,  or  a 
sign,  the  prisoner  turned  towards  one  of  the  five  or  six 
doors  that  opened  into  the  court-yard.  Without  an  in- 
stant's hesitation  he  walked  straight  towards  the  very  door- 
way he  was  expected  to  enter — Lecoq  asked  himself  was 
it  chance  ?  But  his  amazement  and  disappointment  in- 
creased tenfold  when,  after  entering  the  gloomy  corridor, 
he  saw  the  culprit  proceed  some  little  distance,  resolutely 
turn  to  the  left,  pass  by  the  keeper's  room,  and  finally 
enter  the  registrar's  office.  An  old  offender  could  not 
have  done  better. 

Big  drops  of  perspiration  stood  on  Lecoq's  forehead. 
"  This  man,"  thought  he,  "  has  certainly  been  here  before ; 
he  knows  the  ropes." 

The  registrar's  office  was  a  large  room  heated  almost  to 
suffocation  by  an  immense  stove,  and  badly  lighted  by 
three  small  windows,  the  panes  of  which  were  covered 
with  a  thick  coating  of  dust.  There  sat  the  clerk  reading 
a  newspaper,  spread  out  over  the  open  register — that  fatal 
book  in  which  are  inscribed  the  names  of  all  those  whom 
misconduct,  crime,  misfortune,  madness,  or  error  have 
brought  to  these  grim  portals. 

Three  or  four  attendants,  who  were  awaiting  the  hour 
for  entering  upon  their  duties,  reclined  half  asleep  upon 


70  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

the  wooden  benches  that  lined  three  sides  of  the  room 
These  benches,  with  a  couple  of  tables,  and  some  dilapi 
dated  chairs,  constituted  the  entire  furniture  of  the  office 
in  one  corner  of  which  stood  a  measuring  machine,  undei 
which  each  culprit  was  obliged  to  pass ,  the  exact  height 
of  the  prisoners  being  recorded  in  order  that  the  descrir> 
tion  of  their  persons  might  be  complete  in  every  respect. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  culprit  accompanied  by  Lecoq. 
the  clerk  raised  his  head.  "  Ah  1 "  said  he,  "  has  the  van 
arrived  ?  " 

"Yes,"  responded  Lecoq.  And  showing  the  orders 
signed  by  M.  d'Escorval,  he  added :  "  Here  are  this  man's 
papers." 

The  registrar  took  the  documents  and  read  them.  "  Oh !  * 
he  exclaimed,  "  a  triple  assassination  !  oh  !  oh !  "  The 
glance  he  gave  the  prisoner  was  positively  deferential. 
This  was  no  common  culprit,  no  ordinary  vagabond,  no 
vulgar  thief. 

"  The  investigating  magistrate  orders  a  private  exami- 
nation," continued  the  clerk,  "  and  I  must  get  the  prisoner 
other  clothing,  as  the  things  he  is  wearing  now  will  be 
used  as  evidence.  Let  someone  go  at  once  and  tell  the 
superintendent  that  the  other  occupants  of  the  van  must 
wait." 

At  this  moment,  the  governor  of  the  Depot  entered  the 
office.  The  clerk  at  once  dipped  his  pen  in  the  ink,  and 
turning  to  the  prisoner  he  asked — "  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  May." 

"  Your  Christian  name  ?  " 

"  I  have  none." 

"  What,  have  you  no  Christian  name  ?  " 

The  prisoner  seemed  to  reflect  for  a  moment,  and  then 
answered,  sulkily :  "  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  you  need 
not  tire  yourself  by  questioning  me.  I  shan't  answer  any- 
one else  but  the  magistrate.  You  would  like  to  make  me 
cut  my  own  throat  wouldn't  you  ?  A  very  clever  trick,  of 
course,  but  one  that  won't  do  for  me." 

"  You  must  see  that  you  only  aggravate  your  situation," 
observed  the  governor. 

"  Not  in  the  least.  I  am  innocent ;  you  wish  to  ruin  me. 
I  only  defend  myself.  Get  anything  more  out  of  me  now, 
if  you  can.  But  you  had  better  give  me  back  what  they 
took  from  me  at  the  station-house.  My  hundred  and  thirty 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  71 

six  francs  and  eight  sous.  I  shall  need  them  when  I  get 
out  of  this  place.  I  want  you  to  make  a  note  of  them  on 
the  register.  Where  aie  they  ?" 

The  money  had  been  given  to  Lecoq  by  the  keeper  of 
the  station-house,  who  had  found  it  upon  the  prisoner 
when  he  was  placed  in  his  custody.  Lecoq  now  laid  it 
upon  the  table.  "  Here  are  your  hundred  and  thirty-six 
francs  and  eight  sous,"  said  he,  "and  also  your  knife, 
your  handkerchief,  and  four  cigars." 

An  expression  of  lively  contentment  was  discernible  on 
the  prisoner's  features. 

"  Now,"  resumed  the  clerk,  "will  you  answer  ?  " 

But  the  governor  perceived  the  futility  of  further  ques- 
tioning ;  and  silencing  the  clerk  by  a  gesture,  he  told  the 
prisoner  to  take  off  his  boots. 

Lecoq  thought  the  assassin's  glance  wavered  as  he  heard 
this  order.  Was  it  only  a  fancy  ? 

"  Why  must  I  do  that  ? "  asked  the  culprit. 

"  To  pass  under  the  beam,"  replied  the  clerk.  "  We 
must  make  a  note  of  your  exact  height." 

The  prisoner  made  no  reply,  but  sat  down  and  drew  off 
his  heavy  boots.  The  heel  of  the  right  one  was  worn 
down  on  the  inside.  It  was,  moreover,  noticed  that  the 
prisoner  wore  no  socks,  and  that  his  feet  were  coated  with 
mud. 

"  You  only  wear  boots  on  Sundays,  then  ? "  remarked 
Lecoq. 

"  Why  do  you  think  that  ?  " 

"  By  the  mud  with  which  your  feet  are  covered,  as  high 
as  the  anklebone." 

"  What  of  that  ? "  exclaimed  the  prisoner,  in  an  insolent 
tone.  "  Is  it  a  crime  not  to  have  a  marchioness's 
feet?" 

"  It  is  a  crime  you  are  not  guilty  of,  at  all  events,"  said 
the  young  detective,  slowly.  "  Do  you  think  I  can't  see 
that  if  the  mud  were  picked  off,  your  feet  would  be  white 
and  neat?  The  nails  have  been  carefully  cut  and 
polished — " 

He  paused.  A  new  idea  inspired  by  his  genius  for 
investigation  had  just  crossed  Lecoq's  mind.  Pushing  a 
chair  in  front  of  the  prisoner,  and  spreading  a  newspaper 
over  it,  he  said  :  "  Will  you  place  your  foot  there  ?  " 

The  man  did  not  comply  with  the  request. 


7«  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

"  It  is  useless  to  resist,*  exclaimed  the  governor,  "  we 
are  in  force." 

The  prisoner  delayed  no  longer.  He  placed  his  foot 
on  the  chair,  as  he  had  been  ordered,  and  Lecoq,  with  the 
aid  of  a  knife,  preceded  to  remove  the  fragments  of  mud 
that  adhered  to  the  skin. 

Anywhere  else,  so  strange  and  grotesque  a  proceeding 
would  have  excited  laughter,  but  here,  in  this  gloomy 
chamber,  the  ante-room  of  the  assize-court,  an  otherwise 
trivial  act  is  fraught  with  serious  import.  Nothing  aston- 
ishes ;  and  should  a  smile  threaten  to  curve  one's  lips,  it 
is  instantly  repressed. 

All  the  spectators,  from  the  governor  of  the  prison  to 
the  keepers,  had  witnessed  many  other  incidents  equally 
absurd  ;  and  no  one  thought  of  inquiring  the  detective's 
motive  This  much  was  known  already ;  that  the  prisoner 
was  trying  to  conceal  his  identity.  Now  it  was  necessary 
to  establish  it,  at  any  cost,  and  Lecoq  had  probably  dis- 
covered some  means  of  attaining  this  end. 

The  operation  was  soon  concluded ;  and  Lecoq  swept 
the  dust  off  the  paper  into  the  palm  of  his  hand.  He  de- 
vided  it  into  two  parts,  inclosing  one  portion  in  a  scrap  of 
paper,  and  slipping  it  into  his  own  pocket.  With  the  remain- 
der he  formed  a  package  which  he  handed  to  the  governor, 
saying :  "  I  beg  you,  sir,  to  take  charge  of  this,  and  to 
seal  it  up  here,  in  presence  of  the  prisoner.  This  for 
mality  is  necessary,  so  that  by  and  bye  he  may  not  pretend 
that  the  dust  has  been  changed." 

The  governor  complied  with  the  request,  and  as  he 
placed  this  "  bit  of  proof  "  (as  he  styled  it)  in  a  small 
satchel  for  safe  keeping,  the  prisoner  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders with  a  sneering  laugh.  Still,  beneath  this  cynical 
gaiety  Lecoq  thought  he  could  detect  poignant  anxiety. 
Chance  owed  him  the  compensation  of  this  slight  triumph ; 
for  previous  events  had  deceived  all  his  calculations. 

The  prisoner  did  not  offer  the  slightest  objection  when 
he  was  ordered  to  undress,  and  to  exchange  his  soiled  and 
blood-stained  garments  for  the  clothing  furnished  by  the 
government.  Not  a  muscle  of  his  face  moved  while  he 
submitted  his  person  to  one  of  those  ignominious  examina- 
tions which  make  the  blood  rush  to  the  forehead  of  the 
lowest  criminal.  It  was  with  perfect  indifference  that  he 
allowed  an  inspector  to  comb  his  hair  and  beard,  and  to 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  73 

examine  the  inside  of  his  mouth,  so  as  to  make  sure  {hat 
he  had  not  concealed  either  some  fragment  of  glass,  by 
the  aid  of  which  captives  can  sever  the  strongest  bars,  or 
one  of  those  microscopical  bits  of  lead  with  which  pris- 
oners write  the  notes  they  exchange,  rolled  up  in  a  morsel 
of  bread,  and  called  "  postilions." 

These  formalities  having  been  concluded,  the  superin- 
tendent rang  for  one  of  the  keepers.  "  Conduct  this  man 
to  No.  3  of  the  secret  cells,"  he  ordered. 

There  was  no  need  to  drag  the  prisoner  away.  He 
walked  out,  as  he  had  entered,  preceding  the  guard,  like 
some  old  habitue,  who  knows  where  he  is  going. 

"  What  a  rascal ! "  exclaimed  the  clerk. 

"  Then  you  think — "  began  Lecoq,  baffled  but  not  con- 
vinced. 

"  Ah  !  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  it,"  declared  the  gov- 
ernor. "  This  man  is  certainly  a  dangerous  criminal — an 
old  offender — I  think  I  have  seen  him  before — I  could 
almost  swear  to  it." 

Thus  it  was  evident  these  people  with  their  long,  varied 
experience,  shared  Gevrol's  opinion ;  Lecoq  stood  alone. 
He  did  not  discuss  the  matter — what  good  would  it  have 
done  ?  Besides,  the  Widow  Chupin  was  just  being  brought 
in. 

The  journey  must  have  calmed  her  nerves,  for  she  had 
become  as  gentle  as  a  lamb.  It  was  in  a  wheedling  voice, 
and  with  tearful  eyes,  that  she  called  upon  these  "  good 
gentlemen  "  to  witness  the  shameful  injustice  with  whiclr. 
she  was  treated — she,  an  honest  woman.  Was  she  not  the 
main-stay  of  her  family  (since  her  son  Polyte  was  in  cus- 
tody, charged  with  pocket-picking)  hence,  what  would  be- 
come of  her  daughter-in-law,  and  of  her  grandson  Toto, 
who  had  no  one  to  look  after  them  but  her  ? 

Still,  when  her  name  had  been  taken,  and  a  keeper  was 
ordered  to  remove  her,  nature  re-asserted  itself,  and 
scarcely  had  she  entered  the  corridor  than  she  was  heard 
quarreling  with  the  guard. 

"  You  are  wrong  not  to  be  polite,"  she  said  ;  "  you  are 
losing  a  good  fee,  without  counting  many  a  good  drink  I 
would  stand  you  when  I  get  out  of  here." 

Lecoq  was  now  free  until  M.  d'Escorval's  arrival.  He 
wandered  through  the  gloomy  corridors,  from  office  tc 
office,  but  finding  himself  assailed  with  questions  by 


74  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

everyone  he  came  across,  he  eventually  left  the  depot,  and 
went  and  sat  down  on  one  of  the  benches  beside  the  quay. 
Here  he  tried  to  collect  his  thoughts.  His  convictions 
were  unchanged.  He  was  more  than  ever  convinced  that 
the  prisoner  was  concealing  his  real  social  standing,  but, 
on  the  other  hand,  it  was  evident  that  he  was  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  prison  and  its  usages. 

He  had  also  proved  himself  to  be  endowed  with  fat 
more  cleverness,  than  Lecoq  had  supposed.  What  self- 
control  I  What  powers  of  dissimulation  he  had  displayed  1 
He  had  not  so  much  as  frowned  whilst  undergoing  the 
severest  ordeals,  and  he  had  managed  to  deceive  the  most 
experienced  eyes  in  Paris. 

The  young  detective  had  waited  during  nearly  three 
hours,  as  motionless  as  the  bench  on  which  he  was  seat- 
ed, anJ  so  absorbed  in  studying  his  case  that  he  had 
thought  neither  of  the  cold  nor  of  the  flight  of  time,  when 
a  carriage  drew  up  before  the  entrance  of  the  prison,  and 
M.  d'Escorval  alighted,  followed  by  his  clerk. 

Lecoq  rose  and  hastened,  well-nigh  breathless  with  anxi- 
ety, towards  the  magistrate. 

"My  researches  on  the  spot,"  said  his  functionary, 
"  confirm  me  in  the  belief  that  you  are  right.  Is  there  any- 
thing  fresh  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,  a  fact  that  is  apparently  very  trivial,  though 
in  truth,  it  is  of  importance  that — " 

"  Very  well !  "  interrupted  the  magistrate.  You  will 
explain  it  to  me  by  and  bye.  First  of  all,  I  must  summa- 
rily examine  the  prisoners.  A  mere  matter  of  form  for  to- 
day. Wait  for  me  here." 

Although  the  magistrate  promised  to  make  haste,  Lecoq 
expect  that  at  least  an  hour  would  elapse  before  he  re-ap- 
peared. In  this  he  was  mistaken.  Twenty  minutes  later, 
M.  d'Escorval  emerged  from  the  prison  without  his 
clerk. 

He  was  walking  very  fast,  and  in  instead  of  approaching 
the  young  detective,  he  called  to  him  some  little  distance. 
"  I  must  return  home  at  once,"  he  said,  "  instantly,  I  can- 
not listen  to  you." 

"  But,  sir—" 

"  Enough  !  the  bodies  of  the  victims  have  been  taken  to 
Morgue.  Keep  a  sharp  look-out  there.  Then,  this  even 
ing  make well — do  whatever  you  think  best." 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ,  7§ 

"  But,  sir,  I  must — " 

"  To-morrow ! — to-morrow,  at  nine  o'clock,  in  my  office 
b  Palais  de  Justice." 

Lecoq  wished  to  insist  upon  a  hearing,  but  M.  d'Escor- 
tral  had  entered,  or  rather  thrown,  himself  into  his  car- 
riage, and  the  coachman  was  already  whipping  up  the 
horse. 

"  And  to  think  that  he's  an  investigating  magistrate," 
panted  Lecoq,  left  spell-bound  on  the  quay.  "  Has  he 
gone  mad  ?  "  As  he  spoke,  an  uncharitable  thought  took 
possession  of  his  mind.  "  Can  it  be,"  he  murmured,  "  that 
M.  d'Escorval  holds  the  key  to  the  mystery  ?  Perhaps  he 
wishes  to  get  rid  of  me." 

This  suspicion  was  so  terrible  that  Lecoq  hastened  back  to 
the  prison,  hoping  that  the  prisoner's  bearing  might  help 
to  solve  his  doubts.  On  peering  through  the  grated  aper- 
ture in  the  door  of  the  cell,  he  perceived  the  prisoner  lying 
on  the  pallet  that  stood  opposite  the  door.  His  face  was 
turned  towards  the  wall,  and  he  was  enveloped  in  the  cov- 
erlid up  to  his  eyes.  He  was  not  asleep,  for  Lecoq  could 
detect  a  strange  movement  of  the  body,  which  puzzled  and 
annoyed  hirru  On  applying  his  ear  instead  of  his  eye  to 
the  aperture,  he  distinguished  a  stifled  moan.  There 
could  no  longer  be  any  doubt.  The  death  rattle  was 
sounding  in  prisoner's  throat. 

"  Help  1  help ! "  cried  Lecoq,  greatly  excited.  "  The 
prisoner  is  killing  himself  1 " 

A  dozen  keepers  hastened  to  the  spot.  The  door  was 
quickly  opened,  and  it  was  then  ascertained  that  the  pris- 
oner, having  torn  a  strip  of  binding  from  his  clothes,  had 
fastened  it  round  his  neck  and  tried  to  strangle  himself 
with  the  assistance  of  a  spoon  that  had  been  left  him  with 
his  food.  He  was  already  unconscious,  and  the  prison 
doctor,  who  immediately  bled  him,  declared  that  had 
another  ten  minutes  elapsed,  help  would  have  arrived  too 
late. 

When  the  prisoner  regained  his  senses,  he  gazed  around 
him  with  a  wild,  puzzled  stare.  One  might  have  sup- 
posed that  he  was  amazed  to  find  himself  still  alive. 
Suddenly  a  couple  of  big  tears  welled  from  his  swollen 
eyelids,  and  rolled  down  his  cheeks.  He  was  pressed  with 
questions,  but  did  not  vouchsafe  so  much  as  a  single  word 
in  response.  As  he  was  in  such  a  desperate  frame  of  mind* 


7<J  MONSIEUR  LECOQ, 

and  as  the  orders  to  keep  him  in  solitary  confinement  pre- 
vented the  governor  giving  him  a  companion,  it  was  decided 
to  put  a  straight  waistcoat  on  him.  Lecoq  assisted  at  this 
operation,  and  then  walked  away,  puzzled,  thoughtful,  and 
agitated.  Intuition  told  him  that  these  mysterious  occur 
rences  concealed  some  terrible  drama. 

"  Still,  what  can  have  occurred  since  the  prisoner's  ar 
rival  here  ?  "  he  murmured.  "  Has  he  confessed  his  guilt 
to  the  magistrate,  or  what  is  his  reason  for  attempting  so 
desperate  an  act?" 

VIII. 

LECOQ  did  not  sleep  thi.  t  night  although  he  had  been  on 
his  feet  for  more  than  forty  hours,  and  had  scarcely  paused 
either  to  eat  or  drink.  Anxiety,  hope,  and  even  fatigue 
itself,  had  imparted  to  his  body  the  fictitious  strength  of 
fever,  and  to  his  intellect  the  unhealthy  acuteness  which 
is  so  often  the  result  of  intense  mental  effort. 

He  no  longer  had  to  occupy  himself  with  imaginary  de- 
ductions, as  in  former  times  when  in  the  employ  of  his 
patron,  the  astronomer.  Once  again  did  the  fact  prove 
stranger  than  fiction.  Here  was  reality — a  terrible  reality 
personified  by  the  corpses  of  three  victims  lying  on  the 
marble  slabs  at  the  Morgue.  Still,  if  the  catastrophe  it- 
self was  a  patent  fact  its  motive,  its  surroundings,  could 
only  be  conjectured.  Who  could  tell  what  circumstances 
had  preceded  and  paved  the  way  for  this  tragical  denofi- 
ment? 

It  is  true  that  all  doubt  might  be  dispelled  by  one  dis- 
covery— the  identity  of  the  murderer.  Who  was  he  ? 
Who  was  right,  Gevrol  or  Lecoq?  The  former's  views 
were  shared  by  the  officials  at  the  prison  ;  the  latter  stood 
alone.  Again,  the  former's  opinion  was  based  upon  for- 
midable proof,  the  evidence  of  sight ;  whilst  Lecoq's  hypo- 
thesis rested  only  on  a  series  of  subtle  observations  and 
deductions,  starting  from  a  single  sentence  that  had  fallen 
from  the  prisoner's  lips. 

And  yet  Lecoq  resolutely  persisted  in  his  theory,  guided 
by  the  following  reasons.  He  learnt  from  M.  d'Escorval's 
clerk  that  when  the  magistrate  had  examined  the  prisoner, 
the  latter  not  only  refused  to  confess,  but  answered  all  th« 
questions  put  to  him  in  the  most  evasive  fashion.  In  sev 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  77 

eial  instances,  moreover,  he  had  not  replied  at  all.  If  the 
magistrate  had  not  insisted,  it  was  because  this  first 
examination  was  a  mere  formality,  solely  intended  to  jus- 
tify the  somewhat  premature  delivery  of  the  order  to  im- 
prison the  accused. 

Now,  under  these  circumstances,  how  was  one  to  explain 
the  prisoner's  attempt  at  self-destruction  ?  Prison  statis- 
tics show  that  habitual  offenders  do  not  commit  suicide. 
When  apprehended  for  a  criminal  act,  they  are  sometimes 
seized  with  a  wild  frenzy  and  suffer  repeated  nervous  at 
tacks ;  at  others  they  fall  into  a  dull  stupor,  just  as  some 
glutted  beast  succumbs  to  sleep  with  the  blood  of  his 
prey  still  dripping  from  his  lips.  However,  such  men 
never  think  of  putting  an  end  to  their  days.  They  hold 
fast  to  life,  no  matter  how  seriously  they  may  be  com- 
promised. In  truth,  they  are  cowards. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  unfortunate  fellow  who,  in  a 
moment  of  frenzy,  commits  a  crime,  not  unf requently  seeks 
to  avoid  the  consequences  of  his  act  by  self-destruc- 
tion. 

Hence,  the  prisoner's  frustrated  attempt  at  suicide  was 
a  strong  argument  in  favour  of  Lecoq's  theory.  This 
wretched  man's  secret  must  be  a  terrible  one  since  he 
held  it  dearer  than  life,  since  he  had  tried  to  destroy 
himself  that  he  might  take  it  unrevealed  to  the  grave. 

Four  o'clock  was  striking  when  Lecoq  sprang  from  his 
bed  on  which  he  had  thrown  himself  without  undressing ; 
and  five  minutes  later  he  was  walking  down  the  Rue  Mont- 
martre.  The  weather  was  still  cold  and  muggy ;  and  a 
thick  fog  hung  over  the  city.  But  the  young  detective  was 
too  engrossed  with  his  own  thoughts  to  pay  attention  to  any 
atmospherical  unpleasantness.  Walking  with  a  brisk  stride 
he  had  just  reached  the  church  of  Saint  Eustache,  when  a 
coarse,  mocking  voice  accosted  him  with  the  exclamation, 
"  Ah,  ha  !  my  fine  fellow  ! " 

He  looked  up  and  perceived  Gevrol,  who,  with  three  of 
his  men,  had  come  to  cast  his  nets  round  about  the  mark- 
ets, whence  the  police  generally  return  with  a  good  haul  of 
thieves  and  vagabonds. 

"  You  are  up  very  early  this  morning,  Monsieur  Lecoq," 
continued  the  inspector ;  "  you  are  still  trying  to  discovel 
our  man's  identity,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  Still  trying." 


78  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

"  Is  he  a  prince  in  disguise,  or  only  a  marquis  ?  " 

"  One  or  the  other  I  am  quite  certain." 

"  All  right  then.  In  that  case  you  will  not  refuse  us 
the  opportunity  to  drink  to  your  success." 

Lecoq  consented,  and  the  party  entered  a  wine-shop  close 
by.  When  the  glasses  were  filled,  Lecoq  turned  to  Gevrol 
and  exclaimed,  "  Upon  my  word,  General,  our  meeting  will 
save  me  a  long  walk.  I  was  going  to  the  prefecture  to  re- 
quest you,  on  M.  d'Escorval's  behalf,  to  send  one  of  our 
comrades  to  the  Morgue  this  morning.  The  affair  at  the 
Poivriere  has  been  noised  about,  and  all  the  world  will  be 
there,  so  he  desires  some  officer  to  be  present  to  watch  the 
crowd  and  listen  to  the  remarks  of  the  visitors." 

"All  right;  Father  Absinthe  shall  be  there  when  the 
doors  open." 

To  send  Father  Absinthe  where  a  shrewd  and  subtle 
agent  was  required  was  a  mockery.  Still  Lecoq  did  not 
protest,  for  it  was  better  to  be  badly  served  than  to  be  be- 
trayed ;  and  he  could  at  least  trust  Father  Absinthe. 

"  It  doesn't  much  matter,"  continued  Gevrol ;  "  but  you 
should  have  informed  me  of  this  last  evening.  However, 
when  I  reached  the  prefecture  you  had  gone." 

"  I  had  some  work  to  do." 

"  Yes  ?  " 

"  At  the  station-house  near  the  Barriere  d'ltalie.  I 
wanted  to  know  whether  the  floor  of  the  cell  was  paved  or 
tiled."  So  saying,  Lecoq  paid  the  score,  saluted  his  supe- 
rior officer,  and  went  out. 

"  Thunder !  "  exclaimed  Gevrol,  striking  his  glass  vio- 
lently upon  the  counter.  "  Thunder  I  how  that  fellow  pro- 
vokes me !  He  does  not  know  the  A  B  C  of  his  profession. 
When  he  can't  discover  anything,  he  invents  wonderful 
stories,  and  then  misleads  the  magistrates  with  his  high- 
sounding  phrases,  in  the  hope  of  gaining  promotion.  I'll 
give  him  advancement  with  a  vengeance  1  I'll  teach  him 
to  set  himself  above  me  ! " 

Lecoq  had  not  been  deceived.  The  evening  before,  he 
had  visited  the  station-house  where  the  prisoner  had  first 
been  confined,  and  had  compared  the  soil  of  the  cell  floor 
with  the  dust  he  had  placed  in  his  pocket ;  and  he  carried 
away  with  him,  as  he  believed,  one  of  those  crushing  proofs 
that  often  suffice  to  extort  from  the  most  obstinate  criminal 
«  complete  confession. 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  79 

If  Lecoq  was  in  haste  to  part  company  with  Gevrol,  it 
was  because  he  was  anxious  to  pursue  his  investigations 
still  further,  before  appearing  in  M.  d'Esoorval's  presence. 
He  was  determined  to  find  the  cab-driver  who  had  been 
stopped  by  tnj  two  women  in  the  Rue  du  Chevaleret ;  and 
with  this  object  in  vie'-.. ,  he  had  obtained  at  the  prefecture 
the  names  and  addresses  of  all  the  cab-owners  hiring  be- 
tween the  road  to  Fontaineblcau  and  the  Seine. 

His  earlier  efforts  at  investigation  proved  unsuccessful. 
At  the  first  establishment  he  visited,  the  stable  boys,  who 
were  not  yet  up,  swore  at  him  roundly.  In  the  second,  he 
found  the  grooms  at  work,  but  none  of  the  drivers  had  as 
yet  put  in  an  appearance.  Moreover,  the  owner  refused 
to  show  him  the  books  upon  which  are  recorded — or  should 
be  recorded — each  driver's  daily  engagements.  Lecoq 
was  beginning  to  despair,  when  at  about  half-past  seven 
o'clock  he  reached  an  establishment  just  beyond  the  forti- 
fications belonging  to  a  man  named  Trigault.  Here  he 
learned  that  on  Sunday  night,  or  rather,  early  on  Monday 
morning,  one  of  the  drivers  had  been  accosted  on  his  way 
home  by  some  perscr.s  who  succeeded  in  persuading  him 
to  drive  them  bac":  ist-r.  Paris. 

This  driver  who  was  then  in  the  court-yard  harnessing 
his  horse  proved  to  be  a  little  old  man,  with  a  ruddy  com- 
plexion, and  a  pair  of  small  eyes  full  of  cunning.  Lecoq 
walked  up  to  him  at  once. 

"  Was  it  you,"  he  asked,  "  who,  on  Sunday  night  or 
rather  on  Monday,  between  one  and  two  in  the  morning, 
drove  a  couple  of  women  from  the  Rue  du  Chevaleret  into 
Paris  ?  " 

The  driver  looked  up,  and  surveying  Lecoq  attentively, 
cautiously  replied  :  "  Perhaps." 

"  It  is  a  positive  answer  that  I  want." 

"Aha! "said  the  old  man  sneeringly,  "you  know  two 
ladies  who  have  lost  something  in  a  cab,  and  so " 

The  young  detective  trembled  with  satisfaction.  This 
man  was  certainly  the  one  he  was  looking  for :  "  Have  you 
heard  anything  about  a  crime  that  has  been  committed  in 
the  neighborhood  ?  "  he  interrupted. 

"  Yes  ;  a  murder  in  a  low  wine-shop." 

"  Well  then,  I  will  tell  you  that  these  two  women  are 
mixed  up  in  it,  they  fled  when  we  entered  the  place.  I 


So  MONSIEUR  LOCOQ. 

am  trying  to  find  them.  I  am  a  detective ;  here  is  my  card 
Now,  can  you  give  me  any  information  ?  " 

The  driver  had  grown  very  pale.  "  Ah  I  the  wretches  !  " 
he  exclaimed.  "  I  am  no  longer  surprised  at  the  luck- 
money  they  gave  me — a  louis,  and  two  five  franc-pieces  fot 
the  fare — thirty  francs  in  all.  Cursed  money  1  If  I  hadn't 
spent  it,  I'd  throw  it  away ! " 

"  And  where  did  you  drive  them  ? " 

"  To  the  Rue  de  Bourgogne.  I  have  forgotten  the  num 
her,  but  I  should  recognise  the  house." 

"  Unfortunately  they  would  not  have  let  you  drive  them 
to  their  own  door." 

"  Who  knows  ?  I  saw  them  ring  the  bell,  and  I  think 
they  went  in  just  as  I  drove  away.  Shall  I  take  you  there  ? " 
Lecoq's  sole  response  was  to  spring  on  to  the  box,  ex- 
claiming :  "  Let  us  be  off." 

It  was  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  women  who  had  es- 
caped from  the  Widow  Chupin's  drinking  den  at  the  mo- 
ment of  the  murder  were  utterly  devoid  of  intelligence. 
Nor  was  it  at  all  likely  that  these  two  fugitives,  conscious 
as  they  were  of  their  perilous  situation,  had  gone  straight 
to  their  real  home  in  a  vehicle  hired  on  the  public  high- 
way. Hence,  the  driver's  hope  of  finding  them  in  the  Rue 
de  Bourgogne  was  purely  chimerical.  Lecoq  was  fully 
aware  of  this  and  yet  he  did  not  hesitate  to  jump  on  to  the 
box  and  give  the  signal  for  starting.  In  so  doing,  he 
obeyed  maxim  which  he  had  framed  in  his  early  days  of 
meditation — a  maxim  intended  to  assure  his  after  fame 
and  which  ran  as  follows :  "  Always  suspect  that  which 
seems  probable ;  and  begin  by  believing  what  appears  in- 
credible." 

As  soon  as  the  vehicle  was  well  underway,  the  young  de- 
tective proceeded  to  ingratiate  himself  into  the  driver's 
good  graces,  being  anxious  to  obtain  all  the  information 
that  this  worthy  was  able  to  impart. 

In  a  tone  that  implied  that  all  trifling  would  be  useless 
the  cabman  cried,  "  Hey  up,  hey  up,  Cocotte  !  "  and  his 
mare  pricked  up  her  ears  and  quickened  her  pace,  so  that 
the  Route  de  Choisy  was  speedily  reached.  Then  it  was 
that  Lecoq  resumed  his  inquiries. 

"  Well,  my  good  fellow,"  he  began,  "  you  have  told  me 
the  principal  facts,  now  I  should  like  the  details.  How  did 
these  two  women  attract  your  attention  ?  ** 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  Si 

"  Oh,  it  was  very  simple.  I  had  been  having  a  most  unfor- 
tunate day — six  hours  on  a  stand  on  the  Boulevards,  with 
the  rain  pouring  all  the  time.  It  was  simply  awful.  At 
midnight  I  had  not  made  more  than  a  franc  and  a  half 
tor  myself,  but  I  so  wet  and  miserable  and  the  horse  seem- 
ed so  done  up,  that  I  decided  to  go  home.  I  /#</ grumble 
I  can  tell  you.  Well  I  had  just  passed  the  corner  of  the 
Rue  Picard,  in  the  Rue  du  Chevaleret,  when  I  saw  two 
women  standing  under  a  lamp,  some  little  distance  off.  I 
did  not  pay  any  attention  to  them  ;  for  when  a  man  is  as 
old  as  I  am,  women " 

"  Go  on !  "  said  Lecoq,  who  could  not  restain  his  impa- 
tience. 

"  I  had  already  passed  them,  when  they  began  to  call 
after  me.  I  pretended  I  did  not  hear  them ,  but  one  of 
them  ran  after  the  cab,  crying  :  '  A  louis !  a  louis  for  your 
self  ! '  I  hesitated  for  a  moment,  when  the  woman  added , 
*  And  ten  francs  for  the  fare  ! '  I  then  drew  up." 

Lecoq  was  boiling  over  with  impatience;  but  he  felt 
that  the  wisest  course  was  not  to  interrupt  the  driver  with 
questions,  but  to  listen  to  all  he  had  to  say. 

"  As  you  may  suppose,"  continued  the  coachman,  "  I 
wasn't  inclined  to  trust  two  such  suspicious  characters, 
alone  at  that  hour  and  in  that  part  of  the  city.  So,  just  as 
they  were  about  to  get  into  the  cab,  I  called  to  them, 
'  Wait  a  bit,  my  little  friends,  you  have  promised  papa 
some  sous  ;  where  are  they  ?  "  The  one  who  had  called 
after  the  cab  at  once  handed  me  thirty  francs,  saying  : 
'  Above  all,  make  haste  ! '  " 

"  Your  recital  could  not  be  more  minute,"  exclaimed 
Lecoq,  approvingly.  "  Now,  how  about  these  two  wo- 
men ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  what  kind  of  women  did  they  seem  to  be  : 
what  did  you  take  them  for  ? " 

"  Oh,  for  nothing  very  good  !  "  replied  the  driver,  with  a 
knowing  smile. 

"Ah!  and  how  were  they  dressed ? " 

"  Like  most  of  the  girls  who  go  to  dance  at  the  Rainbow. 
One  of  them,  however,  was  very  neat  and  prim,  while  the 
other — well !  she  was  a  terrible  dowdy." 

"  Which  ran  after  you  ?  " 

"  The  girf.  who  was  neatly  dressed,  the  one  who  * 
6 


8*  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

The  driver  suddenly  paused :  some  vivid  remembranco 
passed  through  his  brain,  and  abruptly  jerking  the  reins, 
he  brought  his  horse  to  a  stand-still. 

"  Thunder !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Now  I  think  of  it,  I  did 
notice  something  strange.  One  of  the  two  women  called 
the  other  'madame,'as  large  as  life  while  the  other  said 
'thee  '  and  'thou,'  and  spoke  as  if  she  were  some  body." 

"  Oh  !  oh !  oh  !  "  exclaimed  the  young  detective,  in  three 
different  keys.  "  And  which  was  it  that  said  '  thee '  and 
•thou?"' 

"  Why,  the  dowdy  one.  She  with  shabby  dress  and 
shoes  as  big  as  a  gouty  man's.  You  should  have  seen  her 
shake  the  prim-looking  girl,  as  if  she  had  been  a  plum-tree, 
'  You  little  fool ! '  said  she,  *  do  you  want  to  ruin  us  ?  You 
will  have  time  to  faint  when  we  get  home ;  now  come  along. 
And  then  she  began  to  sob,  '  Indeed,  madame,  indeed  I 
can't ! '  she  said,  and  really  she  seemed  quite  unable  to 
move  :  in  fact,  she  appeared  to  be  so  ill  that  I  said  to  my- 
self :  '  Here  is  a  young  woman  who  has  drank  more  than 
is  good  for  her  1 ' ' 

These  facts  confirmed  even  if  they  corrected  Lecoq's 
first  suppositions.  As  he  had  suspected,  the  social  posi- 
tion of  the  two  women  was  not  the  same.  He  had  been 
mistaken,  however,  in  attributing  the  higher  standing  to 
the  woman  wearing  the  shoes  with  the  high  heels,  the 
marks  of  which  he  had  so  particularly  noticed  in  the  snow, 
with  all  the  attendant  signs  of  precipitation,  terror,  and  weak- 
ness. In  reality,  social  pre-eminence  belonged  to  the  wo- 
man who  had  left  the  large,  broad  foot-prints  behind  her. 
And  not  merely  was  she  of  a  superior  rank,  but  she  had 
also  shown  superior  energy.  Contrary  to  Lecoq's  original 
idea,  it  now  seemed  evident  that  she  was  the  mistress,  and 
her  companion  the  servant. 

"  Is  that  all,  my  good  fellow  ?  "  he  asked  the  driver,  who 
during  the  last  few  minutes  had  been  busy  with  this 
horses. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  cabman,  "  except  that  I  noticed  that 
the  shabbily  dressed  woman  who  paid  me  had  a  hand  as 
small  as  a  child's,  and  in  spite  of  her  anger,  her  voice  wai 
as  sweet  as  music." 

"  Did  you  see  her  face  ?  " 

"  I  just  caught  a  glimpse  of  it." 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  83 

"  Could  you  tell  if  she  were  pretty,  or  whether  she  was 
ft  blonde  or  a  brunette  ?  " 

So  many  questions  at  a  time  confused  the  driver. 
M  Stop  a  minute  I  "  he  replied.  "  In  my  opinion  she  wasn't 
pretty,  and  I  don't  believe  she  was  young,  but  she  certain- 
ly was  a  blonde,  and  with  plenty  of  hair  too." 

"  Was  she  tall  or  short,  stout  or  slender?" 

"  Between  the  two." 

This  was  very  vague.  "  And  the  other,"  asked  Lecoq, 
u  the  neatly  dressed  one  ?  " 

"  The  deuce  I  As  for  her  I  did  not  notice  her  at  all ; 
all  I  know  about  her  is  that  she  was  very  small." 

"  Would  you  recognize  her  if  you  met  her  again  ?  " 

"  Good  heavens  !  no." 

The  vehicle  was  now  rolling  along  the  Rue  de  Bour- 
gogne.  Half  way  down  the  street  the  driver  pulled  up, 
and  turning  to  Lecoq  exclaimed,  "  Here  we  are.  That's 
the  house  the  hussies  went  into." 

To  draw  off  the  silk  handkerchief  that  served  him  as  a 
muffler,  to  fold  it  and  slip  it  into  his  pocket,  to  spring  to 
the  ground  and  enter  the  house  indicated,  was  only  the 
work  of  an  instant  for  the  young  detective. 

In  the  concierge's  little  room  he  found  an  old  woman 
knitting.  Lecoq  bowed  to  her  politely,  and  displaying  the 
silk  handkerchief  exclaimed,  "  Madame,  I  have  come  to 
return  this  article  to  one  of  your  lodgers." 

"To  which  one?" 

"  Really,  I  don't  exactly  know." 

In  a  moment  the  worthy  dame  imagined  that  this  polite 
young  man  was  making  fun  of  her.  "  You  scamp  I  " — she 
began. 

"  Excuse  me,"  interrupted  Lecoq  ;  "  allow  me  to  finish. 
I  must  tell  you  that  at  about  three  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
of  the  day  before  yesterday,  I  was  quietly  returning  home, 
when  two  ladies  who  were  seemingly  in  a  great  hurry, 
overtook  me  and  passed  on.  One  of  them  dropped  this 
handkerchief  which  I  picked  up.  I  hastened  after  her  to 
restore  it,  but  before  I  could  overtake  them  they  had  rang 
the  bell  at  your  door  and  were  already  in  the  house.  I 
did  not  like  to  ring  at  such  an  unearthly  hour  for  fear  of 
disturbing  you.  Yesterday  I  was  so  busy  I  couldn't 
come ;  however,  here  I  am  at  last,  and  here's  the  handker- 
chief." So  saying,  Lecoq  laid  the  handkerchief  on  th« 


&4  MOWSIEUX  LECOQ. 

table,  and  turned  as  if  to  go,  when  the  concierge  detained 
him. 

"  Many  thanks  for  your  kindness,"  said  she,  "  but  you 
can  keep  it.  We  have  no  ladies  in  this  house,  who  are  in 
the  habit  of  coming  home  alone  after  midnight." 

"  Still,  I  have  eyes,"  insisted  Lecoq,  "  and  I  certainly 
saw — " 

"Ahl  I  had  forgotten,"  exclaimed  the  old  woman. 
"  The  night  you  speak  of  someone  certainly  did  ring  the 
bell  here.  I  pulled  the  string  that  opens  the  door  and  lis- 
tened, but  not  hearing  anyone  close  the  door  or  come  up- 
stairs, I  said  to  myself :  '  some  mischievous  fellow  has 
been  playing  a  trick  on  me.'  I  slipped  on  my  dress  and 
went  out  into  the  hall  where  I  saw  two  women,  hastening 
towards  the  door.  Before  I  could  reach  them,  they 
slammed  the  door  in  my  face.  I  opened  it  again  as  quick- 
ly as  I  could  and  looked  out  into  the  street.  But  they 
were  hurrying  away  as  fast  as  they  could." 

"  In  what  direction  ? " 

"Oh!  they  were  running  towards  the  Rue  de  Va- 
rennes." 

Lecoq  was  baffled  again ;  however,  he  bowed  civilly  to 
the  concierge,  whom  he  might  possibly  have  need  of  at 
another  time,  and  then  went  back  to  the  cab.  "  As  I  had 
supposed,  they  do  not  live  here,"  he  remarked  to  the  dri- 
ver. 

The  latter  shrugged  his  shoulders  in  evident  vexation, 
which  would  inevitably  have  vent  in  a  torrent  of  words,  if 
Lecoq,  who  had  consulted  his  watch,  had  not  forestalled 
the  outburst  by  saying  :  "  Nine  o'clock — I  am  an  hour 
behind  time  already  :  still  I  shall  have  some  news  to  tell. 
Now  take  me  to  the  Morgue  as  quickly  as  possible.*' 

When  a  mysterious  crime  has  been  perpetrated,  or  a 
great  catastrophe  has  happened,  and  the  identity  of  the 
victims  has  not  been  established,  "  a  great  day  "  invariably 
follows  at  the  Morgue.  The  attendants  are  so  accustomed 
to  the  horrors  of  the  place,  that  the  most  sickly  sight  fails 
to  impress  them ;  and  even  under  the  most  distressing  cir- 
cumstances, they  hasten  gaily  to  and  fro,  exchanging  jests 
well  calculated  to  make  an  ordinary  mortal's  flesh  creep 
As  a  rule,  they  are  far  less  interested  in  the  corpses  laid 
out  for  public  view  on  the  marble  slabs  in  the  principal 
ball,  than  in  the  people  of  every  age  and  station  in  life 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ  '  j 

who  congregate  here  all  day  long ;  at  times  coming  .n 
search  of  some  lost  relative  or  friend,  but  far  more  l»e- 
quently  impelled  by  idle  curiosity. 

As  the  vehicle  conveying  Lecoq  reached  the  quay,  the 
young  detective  perceived  that  a  large,  excited  crowd  was 
gathered  outside  the  building.  The  newspapers  had  re- 
ported the  tragedy  at  the  Widow  Chupin's  drinking  den, 
of  course,  more  or  less  correctly,  and  everybody  wished  to 
see  the  victims. 

On  drawing  near  the  Pont  Notre  Dame,  Lecoq  told  the 
driver  to  pull  up.  "  I  prefer  to  alight  here,  rather  than 
in  front  of  the  Morgue,"  he  said,  springing  to  the  ground. 
Then,  producing  first  his  watch,  and  next  his  purse,  he 
added,  "we  have  been  an  hour  and  forty  minutes,  my 
good  fellow,  consequently,  I  owe  you — " 

"  Nothing  at  all,"  replied  the  driver,  decidedly. 
"  But—" 

"  No — not  a  sou.     I  am  too  worried  already  to  think 
that  I  took  the  money  these  hussies  offered  me.     It  would 
only  have  served  me  right  if  the  liquor  I  bought  with  it 
Vad  given  me  the  gripes.     Don't  be  uneasy  about   the 
Score,  and  if  you  need  a  trap  use  mine  for  nothing,  till  you 
lave  caught  the  jades." 
As  Lecoq's  purse  was  low,  he  did  not  insist. 
"  You  will,  at  least,  take  my  name  and  address  ? "  con- 
tinued the  driver. 

"Certainly.  The  magistrate  will  want  your  evidence, 
and  a  summons  will  be  sent  you." 

"All  right,  then.  Address  it  to  Papillon  (Eugene), 
driver,  care  of  M.  Trigault.  I  lodge  at  his  place,  because 
I  have  some  small  interest  in  the  business,  you  see." 

The  young  detective  was  hastening  away,  when  Papillon 
called  him  back.  "  When  you  leave  the  Morgue  you  will 
want  to  go  somewhere  else,"  he  said,  "  you  told  me  that 
you  had  another  appointment,  and  that  you  were  already 
late." 

"  Yes,  I  ought  to  be  at  the  Palais  de  Justice  ;  but  it  is 
only  a  few  steps  from  here." 

"  No  matter.    I  will  wait  for  you  at  the  corner  of  the 

bridge.     It's  useless  to  say  '  no ' ;  I've  made  up  my  mind, 

and  I'm  a  Breton,   you  know.     I  want  you  to  ride  out 

the  thirty  francs  that  those  jades  paid  me." 

It  would  have  been  cruel  to  refuse  such  a  request. 


86  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

Accordingly,  Lecoq  made  a  gesture  of  assent,  and  then 
hurried  towards  the  Morgue. 

If  there  was  a  crowd  on  the  roadway  outside,  it  was 
because  the  gloomy  building  itself  was  crammed  full  of 
people.  Indeed,  the  sightseers  most  of  whom  could  see 
nothing  at  all,  were  packed  as  closely  as  sardines,  and  it 
was  only  by  dint  of  well  nigh  superhuman  efforts  that 
Lecoq  managed  to  effect  an  entrance.  As  usual,  he 
found  among  the  mob  a  large  number  of  girls  and  women  ; 
for,  strange  to  say,  the  Parisian  fair  sex  is  rather  partial 
to  the  disgusting  sights  and  horrible  emotions  that  repay 
a  visit  to  the  Morgue. 

The  shop  and  work  girls  who  reside  in  the  neighbour- 
hood readily  go  out  of  their  way  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
corpses  which  crime,  accident,  and  suicide  bring  to  this 
horrible  place.  A  few,  the  more  sensitive  among  them, 
may  come  no  further  than  the  door,  but  the  others  enter, 
and  after  a  long  stare  return  and  recount  their  impressions 
to  their  less  courageous  companions. 

If  there  should  be  no  corpse  exhibited  ;  if  all  the  marble 
slabs  are  unoccupied,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  visitors 
turn  hastily  away  with  an  expression  of  disappointment  or 
discontent.  There  was  no  fear  of  their  doing  so,  however, 
on  the  morrow  of  the  tragedy  at  Poivriere,  for  the  myste- 
rious murderer  whose  identity  Lecoq  was  trying  to  estab- 
lish, had  furnished  three  victims  for  their  delectation. 
Panting  with  curiosity,  they  paid  but  little  attention  to  the 
unhealthy  atmosphere :  and  yet  a  damp  chill  came  from 
beyond  the  iron  railings,  while  from  the  crowd  itself  rose 
an  infectious  vapour,  impregnated  with  the  stench  of  the 
chloride  of  lime  used  as  a  disinfectant. 

As  a  continuous  accompaniment  to  the  exclamations, 
sighs,  and  whispered  comments  of  the  by-standers,  came 
the  murmur  of  the  water  trickling  from  a  spigot  at  the 
head  of  each  slab ;  a  tiny  stream  that  flowed  forth  only  to 
fall  in  fine  spray  upon  the  marble.  Through  the  small 
arched  windows  a  grey  light  stole  in  on  the  exposed  bodies, 
bringing  each  muscle  into  bold  relief,  revealing  the  ghastly 
tints  of  the  lifeless  flesh,  and  imparting  a  sinister  aspect  to 
the  tattered  clothing  hung  around  the  room  to  aid  in  the 
identification  of  the  corpses.  This  clothing,  after  a  certain 
time,  is  sold — for  nothing  is  wasted  at  the  Morgue. 

However,  Lecoq  was  too  occupied  with  his  own  thoughts 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  87 

to  remark  the  horrors  of  the  scene.  He  scarcely  be- 
stowed a  glance  on  the  three  victims.  He  was  looking 
for  Father  Absinthe  whom  he  could  not  perceive.  Had 
Gevrol  intentionally  or  unintentionally  failed  to  fulfil  his 
promise,  or  had  Father  Absinthe  forgotten  his  duty  in  his 
morning  dram  ? 

Unable  to  explain  the  cause  of  his  comrade's  absence, 
Lecoq  addressed  himself  to  the  head  keeper  :  "  It  would 
seem  that  no  one  has  recognised  the  victims,"  he  re- 
marked. 

"  No  one.  And  yet,  ever  since  opening,  we  have  had  an 
immense  crowd.  If  I  were  master  here,  on  days  like  this, 
I  would  charge  an  admission  fee  of  two  sous  a  head,  with 
half-price  for  children.  It  would  bring  in  a  round  sum, 
more  than  enough  to  cover  the  expenses." 

The  keeper's  reply  seemed  to  offer  an  inducement  to 
conversation,  but  Lecoq  did  not  seize  it.  "  Excuse  me," 
he  interrupted,  "didn't  a  detective  come  here  this 
morning  ? " 

"  Yes,  there  was  one  here." 

"  Has  he  gone  away  then  ?  I  don't  see  him  any- 
where ? " 

The  keeper  glanced  suspiciously  at  his  eager  questioner, 
but  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  he  ventured  to  inquire  : 
M  Are  you  one  of  them  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  replied  Lecoq,  exhibiting  his  card  in  sup- 
port of  his  assertion. 

"  And  your  name  ?  " 

"  Is  Lecoq." 

The  keeper's  face  brightened  up.  "  In  that  case,"  said 
he,  "  I  have  a  letter  for  you,  written  by  your  comrade, 
who  was  obliged  to  go  away.  Here  it  is." 

The  young  detective  at  once  tore  open  the  envelope 
and  read  "  Monsieur  Lecoq — " 

"  Monsieur  ? "  this  simple  formula  of  politeness  brought 
a  faint  smile  to  his  lips.  Was  it  not,  on  Father  Absinthe's 
part,  an  evident  recognition  of  his  colleague's  superiority. 
Indeed,  our  hero  accepted  it  as  a  token  of  unquestioning 
devotion  which  it  would  be  his  duty  to  repay  with  a  mas- 
ter's kind  protection  towards  his  first  disciple.  However, 
he  had  no  time  to  waste  in  thought,  and  accordingly  at 
once  proceeded  to  peruse  the  note  which  ran  as  follows  : 


88  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

"  Monsieur  Lecoq, — I  had  been  standing  on  duty  since 
the  opening  of  the  Morgue,  when  at  about  nine  o'clock 
three  young  men  entered,  arm-in-arm.  From  their  manner 
and  appearance,  I  judged  them  to  be  clerks  in  some  store 
or  warehouse.  Suddenly  I  noticed  that  one  of  them 
turned  as  white  as  his  shirt ;  and  calling  the  attention  of 
his  companions  to  one  of  the  unknown  victims,  he  whis- 
pered, *  Gustave ! ' 

"  His  comrades  put  their  hands  over  his  mouth,  and  one 
of  them  exclaimed,  *  What  are  you  about,  you  fool,  to  mix 
yourself  up  with  this  affair  !  Do  you  want  to  get  us  into 
trouble  ? ' 

"  Thereupon  they  went  out,  and  I  followed  them.  But 
the  person  who  had  first  spoken,  was  so  overcome  that  he 
could  scarcely  drag  himself  along;  and  his  companions 
were  obliged  to  take  him  to  a  little  restaurant  close  by.  I 
entered  it  myself,  and  it  is  there  I  write  this  letter,  in  the 
meantime  watching  them  out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye.  I 
send  this  note,  explaining  my  absence,  to  the  head  keeper 
who  will  give  it  you.  You  will  understand  that  I  am  going 
to  follow  these  men.  "  A.  B.  S." 

The  handwriting  of  this  letter  was  almost  illegible  ;  and 
there  were  mistakes  in  spelling  in  wellnigh  every  line ; 
still,  its  meaning  was  clear  and  exact,  and  could  not  fail  to 
excite  the  most  flattering  hopes. 

Lecoq's  face  was  so  radiant  when  he  returned  to  the 
cab,  that,  as  the  old  coachman  urged  on  his  horse,  he  could 
not  refrain  from  saying,  "  Things  are  going  on  to  suit 
you." 

A  friendly  "  hush  ! "  was  the  only  response.  It  required 
all  Lecoq's  attention  to  classify  this  new  information. 
When  he  alighted  from  the  cab  in  front  of  the  Palais  de 
Justice,  he  experienced  considerable  difficulty  in  dismiss- 
ing the  old  cabman,  who  insisted  upon  remaining  at  his 
orders.  He  succeeded  at  last,  however,  but  even  when  he 
had  reached  the  portico  on  the  left  side  of  the  building, 
the  worthy  fellow,  standing  up,  still  shouted  at  the  top  of 
his  voice  :  "At  M.  Trigault's  house — don't  forget — Fathei 
Papillon — No.  998 — 1,000  less  2 — ." 

Lecoq  had  entered  the  left  wing  of  the  Palais.  He 
climbed  the  stairs  till  he  had  reached  the  third  floor,  and 
was  about  to  enter  the  long,  narrow,  badly-lighted  corridoj 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  89 

known  as  the  Galerie  de  1'Instruction,  when  finding  a 
door-  keeper  installed  behind  a  heavy  oaken  desk,  he  re- 
marked :  "  M.  d'Escorval  is  of  course  in  his  office  ? " 

The  man  shook  his  head.  "  No,"  said  he,  "  M.  d'Escorval 
is  not  here  this  morning,  and  he  won't  be  here  for  several 
weeks." 

"  Why  not !     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Last  night,  as  he  was  alighting  from  his  carriage,  at  his 
own  door,  he  had  a  most  unfortunate  fall,  and  broke  his 
leg." 

IX. 

SOME  men  are  wealthy.  They  own  a  carriage  drawn  by 
a  pair  of  high-stepping  horses,  and  driven  by  a  coachman 
in  stylish  livery ;  and  as  they  pass  by,  leaning  back  on 
comfortable  cushions,  they  become  the  object  of  many  an 
envious  glance.  Sometimes,  however,  the  coachman  has 
taken  a  drop  too  much,  and  upsets  the  carriage ;  perhaps 
the  horses  run  away  and  a  general  smash  ensues;  or, 
maybe,  the  hitherto  fortunate  owner,  in  a  moment  of 
absent-mindedness,  misses  the  step,  and  fractures  his  leg 
on  the  curbstone.  Such  accidents  occur  every  day ;  and 
their  long  list  should  make  humble  foot-passengers  bless 
the  lowly  lot  which  preserves  them  from  such  peril. 

On  learning  the  misfortune  that  had  befallen  M. 
d'Escorval,  Lecoq's  face  wore  such  an  expression  of  con- 
sternation that  the  door-keeper  could  not  help  laughing. 
"  What  is  there  so  very  extraordinary  about  that  I've  told 
you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"I— oh!  nothing—" 

The  detective  did  not  speak  the  truth.  The  fact  is,  he 
had  just  been  struck  by  the  strange  coincidence  of  two 
events — the  supposed  murder's  attempted  suicide,  and  the 
magistrate's  fall.  Still,  he  did  not  allow  the  vague  presenti- 
ment that  flitted  through  his  mind  to  assume  any  definite 
form.  For  after  all,  what  possible  connection  could  there 
be  between  the  two  occurrences  ?  Then  again,  he  never 
allowed  tiimself  to  be  governed  by  prejudice,  nor  had  he  as 
yet  enriched  his  formulary  with  an  axiom  he  afterwards 
professed  :  "  Distrust  all  circumstances  that  seem  to  favour 
your  secret  wishes." 

Of    course,    Lecoq    did   not    rejoice    M.    d'Escorval's 


9»  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

accident ;  could  he  have  prevented  it,  he  would  have  gladly 
done  so.  Still,  he  could  not  help  saying  to  himself  that  this 
stroke  of  misfortune  would  free  him  from  all  further  con- 
nection with  a  man  whose  superciliousness  and  disdain  had 
been  painfully  disagreeable  to  his  feelings. 

This  thought  caused  a  sensation  of  relief — almost  one  of 
light-heartedness.  "  In  that  case,"  said  the  young  detective 
to  the  door-keeper,  "  I  shall  have  nothing  to  do  here  this 
morning." 

"  You  must  be  joking,"  was  the  reply.  "  Does  the  world 
stop  moving  because  one  man  is  disabled  ?  The  news  only 
arrived  an  hour  ago ;  but  all  the  urgent  business  that  M. 
d'Escorval  had  in  charge,  has  already  been  divided  among 
the  other  magistrates." 

"  I  came  here  about  that  terrible  affair  that  occurred  the 
other  night  just  beyond  the  Barriere  de  Fontainebleau." 

"  Eh !  Why  didn't  you  say  so  at  once  ?  A  messenger 
has  been  sent  to  the  prefecture  after  you  already.  M. 
Segmuller  has  charge  of  the  case,  and  he's  waiting  for  you." 

Doubt  and  perplexity  were  plainly  written  on  Lecoq's 
forehead.  He  was  trying  to  remember  the  magistrate  that 
bore  this  name,  and  wondered  whether  he  was  a  likely  man 
to  espouse  his  views. 

"  Yes,"  resumed  the  door-keeper,  who  seemed  to  be  in  a 
talkative  mood,  "  M.  Segmuller — you  don't  seem  to  know 
him.  He  is  a  worthy  man,  not  quite  so  grim  as  most  of 
our  gentlemen.  A  prisoner  he  had  examined  said  one  day : 
'  That  devil  there  has  pumped  me  so  well  that  I  shall 
certainly  have  my  head  chopped  off ;  but,  nevertheless,  he's 
a  good  fellow  ! ' ' 

His  heart  somewhat  lightened  by  these  favourable  reports, 
Lecoq  went  and  tapped  at  a  door  that  was  indicated  to  him, 
and  which  bore  the  number — 22. 

"  Come  in !  "  called  out  a  pleasant  voice. 

The  young  detective  entered,  and  found  himself  face  to 
face  with  a  man  of  some  forty  years  of  age,  tall  and  rather 
corpulent,  who  at  once  exclaimed  :  "  Ah  !  you  are  Lecoq. 
Very  well — take  a  seat.  I  am  busy  just  now  looking  over 
the  papers  of  the  case,  but  I  will  attend  to  you  in  five 
minutes." 

Lecoq  obeyed,  at  the  same  time  glancing  furtively  at  the 
magistrate  with  whom  he  was  about  to  work.  M.  Segmul- 
ler's  appearance  corresponded  perfectly  with  the  description 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  g\ 

given  by  the  door-keeper.  His  plump  face  wore  an  air  of 
frankness  and  benevolence,  and  his  blue  eyes  had  a  most 
pleasant  expression.  Nevertheless,  Lecoq  distrusted  these 
appearances,  and  in  so  doing  he  was  right. 

Born  near  Strasbourg,  M.  Segmuller  possessed  that 
candid  physiognomy  common  to  most  of  the  natives  of 
blonde  Alsace — a  deceitful  mask,  which,  behind  seeming 
simplicity,  not  unfrequently  conceals  a  Gascon  cunning, 
rendered  all  the  more  dangerous  since  it  is  allied  with 
extreme  caution.  He  had  a  wonderfully  alert,  penetrating 
mind  ;  but  his  system — every  magistrate  has  his  own — was 
mainly  good-humour.  Unlike  most  of  his  colleagues,  who 
were  as  stiff  and  cutting  in  manner  as  the  sword  which  the 
statue  of  Justice  usually  holds  in  her  hand,  he  made  sim- 
plicity and  kindness  of  demeanour  his  leading  trait,  though, 
of  course,  without  ever  losing  sight  of  his  magisterial  duties. 

Still,  the  tone  of  his  voice  was  so  paternal,  and  the  subtle 
purport  of  his  questions  so  veiled  by  his  seeming  frankness, 
that  most  of  those  whom  he  examined  forgot  the  necessity 
of  protecting  themselves,  and  unawares  confessed  their 
guilt.  Thus,  it  frequently  happened,  that  while  some 
unsuspecting  culprit  was  complacently  congratulating  him- 
self upon  getting  the  best  of  the  judge,  the  poor  wretch 
was  really  being  turned  inside  out  like  a  glove. 

By  the  side  of  such  a  man  as  M.  Segmuller,  a  grave  and 
slender  clerk  would  have  excited  distrust ;  so  he  had  chosen 
one  who  was  a  caricature  of  himself.  This  clerk's  name 
was  Goguet.  He  was  short  but  corpulent,  and  his  broad 
beardless  face  habitually  wore  a  silly  smile,  not  out  of 
keeping  with  his  intellect,  which  was  none  of  the  brightest. 

As  stated  above,  when  Lecoq  entered  M.  Segmuller's 
room  the  latter  was  busy  studying  the  case  which  had  so 
unexpectedly  fallen  into  his  hands.  All  the  articles  which 
the  young  detective  had  collected,  from  the  flakes  of  wool 
to  the  diamond  earring,  were  spread  out  upon  the  magis- 
trate's desk.  With  the  greatest  attention,  he  perused  the 
report  prepared  by  Lecoq,  and  according  to  the  different 
phases  of  the  affair,  he  examined  one  or  another  of  the 
objects  before  him,  or  else  consulted  the  plan  of  the  ground. 

A  good  half-hour  elapsed  before  he  had  completed  his 
inspection,  when  he  threw  himself  back  in  his  arm-chair. 
"  Monsieur  Lecoq,"  he  said,  slowly,  "  Monsieur  d'Escorval 
has  informed  me  by  a  note  on  the  margin  of  this  file  of 


92  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

papers,  that  you  are  an  intelligent  man,  and  that  we  can 
trust  you." 

"  I  am  willing,  at  all  events." 

"  You  speak  too  slightingly  of  yourself ;  this  is  the  first 
time  that  an  agent  has  brought  me  a  report  as  complete  as 
yours.  You  are  young,  and  if  you  persevere,  I  think  you 
will  be  able  to  accomplish  great  things  in  your  profession." 

Nervous  with  delight,  Lecoq  bowed  and  stammered  his 
thanks. 

"  Your  opinion  in  this  matter  coincides  with  mine,"  con- 
tinued M.  Segmuller,  "  and  the  public  prosecutor  informs 
me  that  M.  d'Escorval  shares  the  same  views.  An  enigma 
is  before  us ;  and  it  ought  to  be  solved." 

"  Oh  ! — we'll  solve  it,  I  am  certain,  sir,"  exclaimed  Lecoq, 
who  at  this  moment  felt  capable  of  the  most  extraordinary 
achievements.  Indeed,  he  would  have  gone  through  fire 
and  water  for  the  magistrate  who  had  received  him  so 
kindly,  and  his  enthusiasm  sparkled  so  plainly  in  his  eyes 
that  M.  Segmuller  could  not  restrain  a  smile. 

"  I  have  strong  hopes  of  it  myself,"  he  responded  ;  "  but 
we  are  far  from  the  end.  Now,  what  have  you  been  doing 
since  yesterday  ?  Did  M.  d'Escorval  give  you  any  orders  ? 
Have  you  obtained  any  fresh  information  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  I  have  wasted  my  time,"  replied  Lecoq, 
who  at  once  proceeded  to  relate  the  various  facts  that  had 
come  to  his  knowledge  since  his  departure  from  the 
Poivriere. 

With  rare  precision  and  that  happiness  of  expression 
which  seldom  fails  a  man  well  acquainted  with  his  subject, 
he  recounted  the  daring  feats  of  the  presumed  accomplice, 
the  points  he  had  noted  in  the  supposed  murderer's  con* 
duct,  the  latter's  unsuccessful  attempt  at  self-destruction. 
He  repeated  the  testimony  given  by  the  cab-driver,  and  by 
the  concierge  in  the  Rue  de  Bourgogne,  and  then  read  the 
letter  he  had  received  from  Father  Absinthe. 

In  conclusion,  he  placed  on  the  magistrate's  desk  some  of 
the  dirt  he  had  scraped  from  the  prisoner's  feet ;  at  the  same 
time  despositing  beside  it  a  similar  parcel  of  dust  collected 
on  the  floor  of  the  cell  in  which  the  murderer  was  confined 
at  the  Barriere  d'ltalie. 

When  Lecoq  had  explained  the  reasons  that  had  led 
him  to  collect  this  soil,  and  the  conclusions  that  might  be 
drawn  from  a  comparison  of  the  two  parcels,  M.  Seg- 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  93 

muller,  who  had  been  listening  attentively,  at  once  ex- 
claimed: "You  are  right.  It  may  be  that  you  have 
discovered  a  means  to  confound  all  the  prisoner's  denials. 
At  all  events,  this  is  certainly  a  proof  of  surprising  sagaci- 
ty on  your  part." 

So  it  must  have  been,  for  Goguet,  the  clerk,  nodded  ap- 
provingly. "  Capital  1 "  he  murmured.  "  I  should  never 
have  thought  of  that." 

While  he  was  talking,  M.  Segmuller  had  carefully  placed 
all  the  so-called  "  article  of  conviction  "  in  a  large  drawer, 
from  which  they  would  not  emerge  until  the  trial.  "  Now," 
said  he,  "  I  understand  the  case  well  enough  to  examine 
the  Widow  Chupin.  We  may  gain  some  information  from 
her." 

He  was  laying  his  hand  upon  the  bell,  when  Lecoq  stop- 
ped  him  with  an  almost  supplicating  gesture.  "  I  have 
one  great  favour  to  ask  you  sir,"  he  observed. 

"  What  is  it  ?— speak." 

"  I  should  very  much  like  to  be  present  at  this  examin 
ation.  It  takes  so  little,  sometimes,  to  awaken  a  happy 
inspiration." 

Although  the  law  says  that  the  accused  shall  first  of  all 
be  privately  examined  by  the  investigating  magistrate  as- 
sisted by  his  clerk,  it  also  allows  the  presence  of  police- 
agents.  Accordingly,  M.  Segmuller  told  Lecoq  that  he 
might  remain.  At  the  same  time  he  rang  his  bell ;  which 
was  speedily  answered  by  a  messenger. 

"  Has  the  Widow  Chupin  been  brought  here,  in  compli- 
ance with  my  orders  ?  "  asked  M.  Segmuller. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  she  is  in  the  gallery  outside." 

"  Let  her  come  in  then." 

An  instant  later,  the  hostess  of  the  Poivriere  entered  the 
room,  bowing  to  the  right  and  to  the  left.  This  was  not 
her  first  appearance  before  a  magistrate,  and  she  was  not 
ignoiant  of  the  respect  that  is  due  to  justice.  Accord- 
ingly, she  had  arrayed  herself  for  her  examination  with  the 
utmost  care.  She  had  arranged  her  rebellious  grey  locks 
in  smooth  bandeaux,  and  her  garments,  although  of  com- 
mon material,  looked  positively  neat.  She  had  even 
persuaded  one  of  the  prison  warders  to  buy  her — with  the 
money  she  had  about  her  at  the  time  of  her  arrest — a 
black  crape  cap,  and  a  couple  of  white  pocket-handker 


94  MONSIEUR  L£COQ. 

chiefs,  intending  to  deluge  the  latter  with  her  tears,  should 
the  situation  call  for  a  pathetic  display. 

She  was  indeed  far  too  knowing  to  rely  solely  on  the 
mere  artifices  of  dress  ;  hence,  she  had  also  drawn  upon 
her  repertoire  of  grimaces  for  an  innocent,  sad,  and  yet  re- 
signed expression,  well  fitted,  in  her  opinion,  to  win  the 
sympathy  and  indulgence  of  the  magistrate  upon  whom 
her  fate  would  depend. 

Thus  disguised,  with  downcast  eyes  and  honeyed  voice, 
she  looked  so  unlike  the  terrible  termagant  of  the  Poi- 
vriere,  that  her  customers  would  scarcely  have  recognised 
her.  Indeed,  an  honest  old  bachelor  might  have  offered 
her  twenty  francs  a  month  to  take  charge  of  his  chambers — 
solely  on  the  strength  of  her  good  looks.  But  M.  Segmul- 
ler  had  unmasked  so  many  hypocrites  that  he  was  not 
deceived  for  a  moment :  "  What  an  old  actress  ?  "  he 
muttered  to  himself,  and  glancing  at  Lecoq  he  perceived 
the  same  thought  sparkling  in  the  young  detective's  eyes. 
It  is  true  that  the  magistrate's  penetration,  may  have  been 
due  to  some  notes  he  had  just  perused — notes  containing 
an  abstract  of  the  woman's  former  life,  and  furnished  by 
the  chief  of  police  at  the  magistrate's  request. 

With  a  gesture  of  authority  M.  Segmuller  warned 
Goguet,  the  clerk  with  the  silly  smile,  to  get  his  writing 
materials  ready.  He  then  turned  towards  the  Widow 
Chupin.  "  Your  name  ? "  he  asked  in  a  sharp  tone. 

"  Aspasie  Claperdty,  my  maiden  name,"  replied  the  old 
woman,  "  and  to-day,  the  Widow  Chupin,  at  your  service, 
sir ;"  so  saying,  she  made  a  low  curtsy,  and  then  added  ; 
"  A  lawful  widow,  you  understand,  sir ;  I  have  my  mar- 
riage papers  safe  in  my  chest  at  home  ;  and  if  you  wish  to 
send  anyone " 

"  Your  age  ?"  interrupted  the  magistrate. 

"  Fifty-four." 

"  Your  profession  ? " 

"  Dealer  in  wines  and  spirits  outside  of  Paris,  near  the 
Rue  du  Chateau-des-Rentiers,  just  beyond  the  fortifica 
tions." 

A  prisoner's  examination  always  begins  with  these  ques- 
tions as  to  individuality,  which  gives  both  the  magistrate 
and  the  culprit  time  to  study  each  other,  to  try,  as  it  were, 
each  other's  {strength,  before  joining  in  a  serious  struggle  ; 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  95 

just  as  two  duellists,  about  to  engage  in  mortal  combat, 
first  try  a  few  passes  with  the  foils. 

"Now,"  resumed  M.  Segmuller,  "we  will  note  your  an- 
tecedents. Have  you  not  already  been  found  guilty  of 
several  offences  ? " 

The  Widow  Chupin  was  too  well  versed  in  criminal  pro- 
cedure to  be  ignorant  of  those  famous  records,  which 
render  the  denial  of  identity  such  a  difficult  matter  in 
France.  "  I  have  been  unfortunate,  my  good  judge,"  she 
whined. 

"  Yes,  several  times.  First  of  all  you  were  arrested  on 
a  charge  of  receiving  stolen  goods." 

"  But  it  was  proved  that  I  was  innocent,  that  my  charac- 
ter was  whiter  than  snow.  My  poor,  dear  husband  had 
been  deceived  by  his  comrades  ;  that  was  all." 

"  Possibly.  But  while  your  husband  was  undergoing- 
his  sentence,  you  were  condemned,  first  to  one  month's 
and  then  to  three  months'  imprisonment  for  stealing." 

"  Oh,  I  had  some  enemies  who  did  their  best  to  ruin 
me." 

"  Next  you  were  imprisoned  for  having  led  some  young 
girls  astray." 

"  They  were  good-for-nothing  hussies,  my  kind  sir,  heart- 
less, unprincipled  creatures.  I  did  them  many  favours, 
and  then  they  went  and  related  a  batch  of  falsehoods  to 
ruin  me.  I  have  always  been  too  kind  and  considerate 
towards  others." 

The  list  of  the  woman's  offences  was  not  exhausted,  but 
M.  Segmuller  thought  it  useless  to  continue.  "  Such  is 
your  past,"  he  resumed.  "  At  the  present  time  your  wine- 
shop is  the  resort  of  rogues  and  criminals.  Your  son  is  un- 
dergoing his  fourth  term  of  imprisonment ;  and  it  has  been 
clearly  proved  that  you  abetted  and  assisted  him  in  his 
evil  deeds.  Your  daughter-in-law,  by  some  miracle,  has 
remained  honest  and  industrious,  hence,  you  have*  tor- 
mented and  abused  her  to  such  an  extent  that  the 
authorities  have  been  obliged  to  interfere.  When  she 
left  your  house  you  tried  to  keep  her  child — no  doubt 
meaning  to  bring  it  up  after  the  same  fashion  as  its  father." 

""  This,"  thought  the  Widow  Chupin,  "  is  the  right  mo- 
ment to  try  and  soften  the  magistrate's  heart."  Accord- 
ingly, she  drew  one  of  her  new  handkerchiefs  from  her 
pocket,  and,  by  dint  of  rubbing  her  eyes,  endeavoured  to 


96  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

extract  a  tear.  "  Oh,  unhappy  me,"  she  groaned.  "  How 
can  anyone  imagine  that  I  would  harm  my  grandson,  my 
poor  little  Toto  J  Why  I  should  be  worse  than  a  wild 
beast,  to  try  and  bring  my  own  flesh  and  blood  to  perdi- 
tion." 

She  soon  perceived,  however,  that  her  lamentations  did 
not  much  affect  M.  Segmuller,  hence,  suddenly  chang- 
ing both  her  tone  and  manner  she  began  her  justification. 
She  did  not  positively  deny  her  past ;  but  she  threw  ail 
the  blame  on  the  injustice  of  destiny,  which,  while  favour- 
ing a  few,  generally  the  less  deserving,  showed  no  mercy 
to  others.  Alas !  she  was  one  of  those  who  had  had  no 
luck  in  life,  having  always  been  persecuted,  despite  her 
innocence.  In  this  last  affair,  for  instance,  how  was  she 
to  blame  ?  A  triple  murder  had  stained  her  shop  with 
blood ;  but  the  most  respectable  establishments  are 
not  exempt  from  similar  catastrophes.  During  her  solitary 
confinement,  she  had,  said  she,  dived  down  into  the  deep- 
est recesses  of  her  conscience,  and  she  was  still  unable  to 
discover  what  blame  could  justly  be  laid  at  her  door. 

"  I  can  tell  you,"  interrupted  the  magistrate.  "  You  are 
accused  of  impeding  the  action  of  the  law." 

"  Good  heavens !     Is  it  possible  !  " 

"  And  of  seeking  to  defeat  justice.  This  is  equivalent 
to  complicity,  Widow  Chupin ;  take  care.  When  the  police 
entered  your  cabin,  after  this  crime  had  been  committed, 
you  refused  to  answer  their  questions." 

"  I  told  them  all  that  I  knew." 

"  Very  well,  then  you  must  repeat  what  you  told  them 
to  me." 

M.  Segmuller  had  reason  to  feel  satisfied.  He  had  con- 
ducted the  examination  in  such  a  way  that  the  Widow 
Chupin  would  now  have  to  initiate  a  narrative  of  the 
tragedy.  This  excellent  point  gained ;  for  this  shrewd 
old  woman  possessed  of  all  her  coolness,  would  naturally 
have  been  on  her  guard  against  any  direct  questions.  Now, 
it  was  essential  that  she  should  not  suspect  either  what  the 
magistrate  knew  of  the  affair,  or  what  he  was  ignorant  of. 
By  leaving  her  to  her  own  devices  she  might,  in  the  course  of 
the  version  which  she  proposed  to  substitute  for  the  truth, 
not  merely  strengthen  Lecoq's  theories,  but  also  let  fall  some 
remark  calculated  to  facilitate  the  task  of  future  investiga- 
tion. Both  M.  Segmuller  and  Lecoq  were  of  opinion  that 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  97 

the  version  of  the  crime,  which  they  were  about  to  hear,  had 
been  concocted  at  the  station-house  of  the  Place  d'ltalie 
while  the  murderer  and  the  spurious  drunkard  were  left  to- 
gether, and  that  it  had  been  transmitted  by  the  accomplice  to 
the  widow  during  the  brief  conversation  they  were  allowed  to 
have  through  the  wicket  of  the  latter's  cell. 

Invited  by  the  magistrate  to  recount  the  circumstances 
of  the  tragedy,  Mother  Chupin  did  not  hesitate  for  a 
moment.  "Oh,  it  was  a  very  simple  affair,  my  good 
sir,"  she  began.  "  I  was  sitting  by  my  fireside  on  Sunday 
evening,  when  suddenly  the  door  opened,  and  three  men 
and  two  women  came  in." 

M.  Segmuller  and  the  young  detective  exchanged 
glances.  The  accomplice  had  evidently  seen  Lecoq  and 
his  comrade  examining  the  foot-prints,  and  accordingly 
the  presence  of  the  two  women  was  not  to  be  denied. 

"  What  time  was  this  ? "  asked  the  magistrate. 

"  About  eleven  o'clock." 

"  Go  on." 

"  As  soon  as  they  sat  down,  they  ordered  a  bowl  of 
wine,  a  la  Francaise.  Without  boasting,  I  may  say  that 
I  haven't  an  equal  in  preparing  that  drink.  Of  course,  I 
waited  on  them,  and  afterwards,  having  a  blouse  to  mend 
for  my  boy,  I  went  upstairs  to  my  roorq,  which  is  just  over 
the  shop." 

"  Leaving  these  people  alone  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  judge." 

"  That  showed  a  great  deal  of  confidence  on  your  part."' 

The  widow  sadly  shook  her  head.  "  People  as  poor  as 
I  am  don't  fear  the  thieves,"  she  sighed. 

"  Go  on — go  on." 

"  Well,  I  had  been  upstairs  about  half  an  hour,  when  I 
heard  someone  below  call  out  :  '  Eh  !  old  woman  ! '  So  I 
went  down,  and  found  a  tall  big-bearded  man,  who  had 
just  come  in.  He  asked  for  a  glass  of  brandy,  which  I 
brought  to  a  table  where  he  had  sat  down  by  himself." 

"  And  then,  did  you  go  upstairs  again  ? "  interrupted 
the  magistrate. 

The  exclamation  was  ironical,  of  course,  but  no  one 
could  have  told  from  the  Widow  Chupin's  placid  counte- 
nance whether  she  was  aware  that  such  was  the  case. 

"  Precisely,  my  good  sir,"  she  replied  in  the  most  com- 
posed manner,  "  Only  this  time  I  had  scarcely  taken  up 


98  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

my  needle  when  I  heard  a  terrible  uproar  in  the  shop.  I 
hurried  downstairs  to  put  a  stop  to  it — but  heaven  knows 
my  interference  would  have  been  of  little  use.  The  three 
men  who  had  come  in  first  of  all  had  fallen  upon  the  new 
comer,  and  they  were  beating  him,  my  good  sir,  they  were 
killing  him.  I  screamed.  Just  then  the  man  who  had  come 
in  alone  drew  a  revolver  from  his  pocket ;  he  fired  and  killed 
one  of  his  assailants,  who  fell  to  the  ground.  I  was  so 
frightened  that  I  crouched  on  the  staircase  and  threw  my 
apron  over  my  head  that  I  might  not  see  the  blood  run. 
An  instant  later  Monsieur  Gevrol  arrived  with  his  men ; 
they  forced  open  the  door,  and  behold — " 

The  Widow  Chupin  here  stopped  short.  These  wretched 
old  women,  who  have  trafficked  in  every  sort  of  vice,  and 
who  have  tasted  every  disgrace,  at  times  attain  a  perfec- 
tion of  hypocrisy  calculated  to  deceive  the  most  subtle 
penetration.  Anyone  unacquainted  with  the  antecedents 
of  the  landlady  of  the  Poivriere,  would  certainly  have 
been  impressed  by  her  apparent  candour,  so  skilfully  did 
she  affect  a  display  of  frankness,  surprise,  and  fear.  Her 
expression  would  have  been  simply  perfect,  had  it  not  been 
for  her  eyes,  her  small  gray  eyes,  as  restless  as  those  of  a 
caged  animal,  and  gleaming  at  intervals  with  craftiness 
and  cunning. 

There  she  stood,  mentally  rejoicing  at  the  success  of 
her  narrative,  for  she  was  convinced  that  the  magistrate 
placed  implicit  confidence  in  her  revelations.  Although 
during  her  recital,  delivered,  by  the  way,  with  conjuror- 
like  volubility,  not  a  muscle  of  M.  Segmuller's  face  had  be- 
trayed what  was  passing  in  his  mind.  When  she  paused, 
out  of  breath,  he  rose  from  his  seat  and  without  a  word 
approached  his  clerk  to  inspect  the  notes  taken  during 
the  earlier  part  ofthe  examination. 

From  the  corner  where  he  was  quietly  seated,  Lecoq 
did  not  cease  watching  the  prisoner.  "  She  thinks  that 
it's  all  over,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  "  she  fancies  that 
her  deposition  is  accepted  without  question." 

If  such  were,  indeed,  the  widow's  opinion,  she  was  soon 
to  be  undeceived ;  for,  after  addressing  a  few  low-spoken 
words  to  the  smiling  Goguet,  M.  Segmuller  took  a  seat 
near  the  fireplace,  convinced  that  the  moment  had  now 
come  to  abandon  defensive  tactics,  and  open  fire  on  the 
enemy's  position. 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  99 

"  So,  Widow  Chupin,"  he  began,  "  you  tell  us  that  you 
didn't  remain  for  a  single  moment  with  the  people  wha 
came  into  your  shop  that  evening ! " 

"  Not  a  moment." 

"They  came  in  and  ordered  what  they  wanted;  you 
waited  on  them,  and  then  left  them  to  themselves  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  good  sir." 

"  It  seems  to  me  impossible  that  you  didn't  overhear 
some  words  of  their  conversation.  What  were  they  talking 
about  ? " 

"  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  playing  spy  over  my  custom- 
ers." 

"  Didn't  you  hear  anything  ?  " 

"  Nothing  at  all." 

The  magistrate  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  an  air  of 
commiseration.  "In  other  words,"  he  remarked,  "you 
refuse  to  inform  justice " 

"  Oh,  my  good  sir !  " 

"Allow  me  to  finish.  All  these  improbable  stories 
about  leaving  the  shop  and  mending  your  son's  clothes  in 
your  bedroom,  are  so  many  inventions.  You  have  con- 
cocted them  so  as  to  be  able  to  say  to  me  :  '  I  didn't  see 
anything;  I  didn't  hear  anything;  I  don't  know  anything.' 
If  such  is  your  system  of  defence,  I  warn  you  that  it  will 
be  impossible  for  you  to  maintain  it,  and  I  may  add  that  it 
would  not  be  admitted  by  any  tribunal." 

"  It  is  not  a  system  of  defence ;  it  is  the  truth." 

M.  Segmuller  seemed  to  reflect  for  a  moment ;  then,  sud- 
denly, he  exclaimed  :  "  Then  you  have  nothing  to  tell  me 
about  this  miserable  assassin  ?  " 

"  But  he  is  not  an  assassin,  my  good  sir." 

"  What  da  you  mean  by  such  an  assertion  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  he  only  killed  the  others  in  protecting 
himself.  They  picked  a  quarrel  with  him ;  he  was  alone 
against  three,  and  saw  very  plainly  that  he  could  expect 
no  mercy  from  brigands  who — " 

The  colour  rose  to  the  Widow  Chupin's  cheeks, 
and  she  suddenly  checked  herself,  greatly  embarrassed, 
and  evidently  regretting  that  she  had  not^  bridled  her 
tongue.  It  is  true  she  might  reasonably  hope,  that  the 
magistrate  had  imperfectly  heard  her  words,  and  had  failed 
to  seize  their  full  purport,  for  two  or  three  red  hot  coals 
having  fallen  from  the  grate  on  to  the  hearth,  he  had  taken 


ioo  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

up  the  tongs,  and  seemed  to  be  engrossed  in  the  task  oi 
artistically  arranging  the  fire. 

"  Who  can  tell  me — who  can  prove  to  me  that,  on  the 
contrary,  it  was  not  this  man  who  first  attacked  the  others  ?" 
he  murmured,  thoughtfully. 

"  I  can,"  stoutly  declared  the  widow,  already  forgetful 
of  her  prudent  hesitation,  "  I  can  swear  it." 

M.  Segmuller  looked  up,  intense  astonishment  written 
apon  his  face.  "  How  can  you  know  that  ? "  he  said 
slowly.  "  How  can  you  swear  it  ?  You  were  in  your  bed- 
room when  the  quarrel  began." 

Silent  and  motionless  in  his  corner,  Lecoq  was  inwardly 
jubilant.  This  was  a  most  happy  result,  he  thought,  but 
a  few  questions  more,  and  the  old  woman  would  be  obliged 
to  contradict  herself.  What  she  had  already  said  sufficed 
to  show  that  she  must  have  a  secret  interest  in  the  matter, 
or  else  she  would  never  have  been  so  imprudently  earnest 
in  defending  the  prisoner. 

"  However,  you  have  probably  been  led  to  this  conclusion 
by  your  knowledge  of  the  murderer's  character,"  remarked 
M.  Segmuller,  "you  are  apparently  well  acquainted  with 
him." 

"  Oh,  I  had  never  set  eyes  on  him  before  that  evening." 

"  But  he  must  have  been  in  your  establishment  before  ?  " 

"  Never  in  his  life," 

"Oh,  oh!  Then  how  do  you  explain  that  on  enter- 
ing the  shop  while  you  were  up-stairs,  this  unknown  per- 
son— this  stranger — should  have  called  out :  '  Here,  old 
woman ! '  Did  he  merely  guess  that  the  establishment 
was  kept  by  a  woman  ;  and  that  this  woman  was  no  longer 
young  ?  " 

"  He  did  not  say  that." 

"  Reflect  a  moment ;  you,  yourself  just  told  me  so." 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  say  that,  I'm  sure,  my  good  sir." 

"  Yes  you  did,  and  I  will  prove  it  by  having  your  en 
dence  read  :  Goguet,  read  the  passage,  if  you  please." 

The  smiling  clerk  looked  back  through  his  minutes  and 
then,  in  his  clearest  voice,  he  read  these  words,  taken  down 
as  they  fell  from  the  Widow  Chupin's  lips  :  "  I  had  been 
up-stairs  about  half-an-hour,  when  I  heard  someone  below 
call  out  '  Eh  !  old  woman.'  So  I  went  down,"  &c.,  &c. 

"  Are  you  convinced  ?  "  asked  M.  Segmuller. 

The  ©Id  offender's  assurance  was   sensibly  diminished 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  lot 

by  this  proof  of  her  prevarication.  However,  instead  of 
discussing  the  subject  any  further,  the  magistrate  glided 
over  it  as  if  he  did  not  attach  much  importance  to  the  in- 
cident. 

"  And  the  other  men,"  he  resumed,  "  those  who  were 
killed  :  did  you  know  them  ?  " 

"  No,  good  sir,  no  more  than  I  knew  Adam  and  Eve." 

"  And  were  you  not  surprised  to  see  three  men  utterly 
unknown  to  you,  and  accompanied  by  two  women,  enter 
your  establishment  ? " 

"  Sometimes  chance — " 

"  Come  !  you  do  not  think  of  what  you  are  saying.  It 
was  not  chance  that  brought  these  customers,  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  night,  to  a  wine-shop  with  a  reputation  like  yours 
— an  estabrishment  situated  far  from  any  frequented  route 
in  the  midst  of  a  desolate  waste." 

"  I'm  not  a  sorceress ;  I  say  what  I  think." 

"  Then  you  did  not  even  know  the  youngest  of  the  vic- 
tims, the  man  who  was  attired  as  a  soldier,  he  who  was 
named  Gustave  ? " 

"  Not  at  all." 

M.  Segmuller  noted  the  intonation  of  this  response 
and  then  slowly  added :  "  But  you  must  have  heard  01 
one  of  Gustave's  friends,  a  man  called  Lacheneur  ? " 

On  hearing  this  name,  the  landlady  of  the  Poivriere 
became  visibly  embarrassed,  and  it  was  in  an  altered  voice 
that  she  stammered :  "  Lacheneur  !  Lacheneur !  no  I  have 
never  heard  that  name  mentioned." 

Still  despite  her  denial,  the  effect  of  M.  Segmuller's 
remark  was  evident,  and  Lecoq  secretly  vowed  that  he 
would  find  this  Lacheneur,  at  any  cost.  Did  not  the 
"  articles  of  conviction  "  comprise  a  letter  sent  by  this  man 
to  Gustave,  and  written,  so  Lecoq  had  reason  to  believe, 
in  a  cafe  on  the  Boulevard  Beaumarchais  ?  With  such  a 
clue  and  a  little  patience,  the  mysterious  Lacheneur  might 
yet  be  discovered. 

"  Now,"  continued  M.  Segmuller,  "  let  us  speak  of  the 
women  who  accompanied  these  unfortunate  men.  Whal 
sort  of  women  were  they  ? " 

"  Oh !  women  of  no  account  whatever ! " 

"  Were  they  well  dressed  ?  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  very  miserably." 


id*  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

"  Well,  give  me  a  description  of  them.** 

"They  were  tall  and  powerfully  built,  and  indeed,  as  it 
was  Shrove  Sunday,  I  first  of  all  took  them  for  men  in  dis- 
guise. They  had  hands  like  shoulders  of  mutton,  gruff 
voices,  and  very  black  hair.  They  were  as  dark  as  mulat- 
tos—" 

"  Enough !  "  interrupted  the  magistrate,  "  I  require  no 
further  proof  of  your  mendacity.  These  women  were 
short,  and  one  of  them  was  remarkably  fair." 

"  I  swear  to  you,  my  good  sir " 

"Do  not  declare  it  upon  oath.  I  shall  be  forced  to 
confront  you  with  an  honest  man,  who  will  tell  you  to  your 
face  that  you  are  a  liar  !  " 

The  widow  did  not  reply,  and  there  was  a  moment's  si- 
lence. M.  Segmuller  determined  to  deal  a  decisive  blow. 
"  Do  you  also  affirm  that  you  had  nothing  of  a  compromis- 
ing character  in  the  pocket  of  your  apron  ? "  b°  asked. 

"  Nothing — you  may  have  it  examined ;  it  was  loft  in 
the  house." 

"  Then  you  still  persist  in  your  system,"  resumed  M. 
Segmuller.  "  Believe  me,  you  are  wrong.  Reflect — it 
rests  with  you  to  go  to  the  Assize  Court  as  a  witness,  or 
an  accomplice." 

Although  the  widow  seemed  crushed  by  this  unexpected 
blow,  the  magistrate  did  not  add  another  word.  Her  de- 
position was  read  over  to  her,  she  signed  it,  and  was  then 
led  away. 

M.  Segmuller  immediately  seated  himself  at  his  desk, 
filled  up  a  blank  form  and  handed  it  to  his  clerk,  saying : 
"  This  is  an  order  for  the  governor  of  the  Depot.  Tell 
him  to  send  the  supposed  murderer  here  at  once." 


X. 

IF  it  is  difficult  to  extort  a  confession  from  a  man  in- 
terested in  preserving  silence  and  persuaded  that  no  proofs 
can  be  produced  against  him,  it  is  a  yet  more  arduous  task 
to  make  a  woman,  similarly  situated,  speak  the  truth.  As 
they  say  at  the  Palais  de  Justice,  one  might  as  well  try  to 
make  the  devil  confess. 

The  examination  of  the  Widow  Chupin  had  been  con* 
ducted  with  the  greatest  possible  care  by  M.  Segmulleq 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  103 

who  was  as  skilful  in  managing  his  questions  as  a  tried 
general  in  manoeuvring  his  troops. 

However,  all  that  he  had  discovered  was  that  the  land- 
lady of  the  Poivriere  was  conniving  with  the  murderer. 
The  motive  of  her  connivance  was  yet  unknown,  and  the 
murderer's  identity  still  a  mystery.  Both  M.  Segmuller 
and  Lecoq  were  nevertheless  of  opinion  that  the  old  hag 
knew  everything.  "It  is  almost  certain,"  remarked  the 
magistrate,  "that  she  was  acquainted  with  the  people  who 
came  to  her  house — with  the  women,  the  victims,  the  mur- 
derer— with  all  of  them,  in  fact.  I  am  positive  as  regards 
that  fellow  Gustave — I  read  it  in  her  eyes.  I  am  also 
convinced  that  she  knows  Lacheneur — the  man  upon  whom 
the  dying  soldier  breathed  vengeance — the  mysterious  per- 
sonage who  evidently  possesses  the  key  to  the  enigma. 
That  man  must  be  found." 

"  Ah  !  "  replied  Lecoq,  "  and  I  will  find  him  even  if  I  have 
to  question  every  one  of  the  eleven  hundred  thousand  men 
who  constantly  walk  the  streets  of  Paris  !  " 

This  was  promising  so  much  that  the  magistrate,  des- 
pite his  preoccupation,  could  not  repress  a  smile. 

"  If  this  old  woman  would  only  decide  to  make  a  clean 
breast  of  it  at  her  next  examination  !  "  remarked  Lecoq. 

"  Yes.     But  she  won't." 

The  young  detective  shook  his  head  despondingly. 
Such  was  his  own  opinion.  He  did  not  delude  himself 
with  false  hopes,  and  he  had  noticed  between  the  Widow 
Chupin's  eyebrows,  those  furrows  which,  according  to 
physiognomists,  indicate  a  senseless,  brutish  obstinacy. 

"  Women  never  confess,"  resumed  the  magistrate ;  "  and 
even  when  they  seemingly  resign  themselves  to  such  a 
course,  they  are  not  sincere.  They  fancy  they  have  dis- 
covered some  means  of  misleading  their  examiner.  On 
the  contrary,  evidence  will  crush  the  most  obstinate  man ; 
he  gives  up  the  struggle,  and  confesses.  Now,  a  woman 
scoffs  at  evidence.  Show  her  the  sun ;  tell  her  it's  day- 
time :  at  once  she  will  close  her  eyes  and  say  to  you,  '  No, 
it's  night.'  Male  prisoners  plan  and  combine  different 
systems  of  defence  according  to  their  social  positions ; 
the  women  on  the  contrary,  have  but  one  system,  no  mat- 
ter what  may  be  their  condition  in  life.  They  deny 
everything,  persist  in  their  denials  even  when  the  proofs 
against  them  is  overwhelming,  and  then  they  cry.  When 


104  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

I  worry  the  Chupin  with  disagreeable  questions,  at  hei 
next  examination,  you  may  be  sure  she  will  turn  her  eyes 
into  a  fountain  of  tears." 

In  his  impatience,  M.  Segmuller  angrily  stamped  his 
foot.  He  had  many  weapons  in  his  arsenal;  but  none 
strong  enough  to  break  a  woman's  dogged  resistance. 

"  If  I  only  understood  the  motive  that  guides  this  old 
hag ! "  he  continued.  "  But  not  a  clue !  Who  can  tell 
me  what  powerful  interests  induces  her  to  remain  silent  ? 
It  is  her  own  cause  that  she  is  defending  ?  Is  she  an  ac- 
complice ?  Is  it  certain  that  she  did  not  aid  the  murderer 
in  planning  an  ambuscade  ? " 

"  Yes,"  responded  Lecoq,  slowly,  "  yes ;  this  supposition 
very  naturally  presents  itself  to  the  mind.  But  think  a 
moment,  sir,  such  a  theory  would  prove  that  the  idea  we 
entertained,  a  short  time  since,  is  altogether  false.  If  the 
Widow  Chupin  is  an  accomplice,  the  murderer  is  not  the 
person  we  have  supposed  him  to  be ;  he  is  simply  the  man 
he  seems  to  be." 

This  argument  apparently  convinced  M.  Segmuller. 
"  What  is  your  opinion  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  young  detective  had  formed  his  opinion  a  long 
while  ago.  But  how  could  he,  a  humble  police-agent, 
venture  to  express  any  decided  views  when  the  magistrate 
hesitated  ?  He  understood  well  enough  that  his  position 
necessitated  extreme  reserve ;  hence,  it  was  in  the  most 
modest  tone  that  he  replied :  "  Might  not  the  pretendec" 
drunkard  have  dazzled  Mother  Chupin's  eyes  with  the 
prospect  of  a  brilliant  reward  ?  Might  he  not  have  prom- 
ised her  a  considerable  sum  of  money  ? " 

He  paused ;  Goguet  the  smiling  clerk  had  just  returned. 
Behind  him  stood  a  private  of  the  Garde  de  Paris  who  re- 
mained respectfully  on  the  threshold,  his  heels  in  a  straight 
line,  his  right  hand  raised  to  the  peak  of  his  shako,  and 
his  elbow  on  a  level  with  his  eyes,  in  accordanee  with  the 
regulations. 

"  The  governor  of  the  Depot,"  said  the  soldier,  "  sends 
me  to  inquire  if  he  is  to  keep  the  Widow  Chupin  in  solitary 
confinement ;  she  complains  bitterly  about  it." 

M.  Segmuller  reflected  for  a  moment.  "  Certainly,"  he 
murmured,  as  if  replying  to  an  objection  made  by  his  own 
conscience  ;  "  certainly,  it  is  an  undoubted  aggravation  of 
suffering ;  but  if  I  allow  this  woman  to  associate  with  the 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  105 

other  prisoners,  she  will  certainly  find  some  opportunity  to 
communicate  with  parties  outside.  This  must  not  be ;  the 
interests  of  justice  and  truth  must  be  considered  first." 
The  thought  embodied  in  these  last  words  decided  him. 
"  Despite  her  complaints  the  prisoner  must  be  kept  in  sol- 
itary confinement  until  further  orders,"  he  said. 

The  soldier  allowed  his  right  hand  to  fall  to  his  side,  he 
carried  his  right  foot  three  inches  behind  his  left  heel,  and 
wheeled  around.  Goguet,  the  smiling  clerk  then  closed 
the  door,  and  drawing  a  large  envelope  from  his  pocket, 
handed  it  to  the  magistrate.  "  Here  is  a  communication 
from  the  governor  of  the  Depot,"  said  he. 

The  magistrate  broke  the  seal,  and  read  aloud,  as  fol- 
lows :  "  I  feel  compelled  to  advise  M.  Segmuller  to  take 
every  precaution  with  the  view  of  assuring  his  own  safety 
before  proceeding  with  the  examination  of  the  prisoner, 
May.  Since  his  unsuccessful  attempt  at  suicide,  this  pris- 
oner has  been  in  such  a  state  of  excitement  that  we  have 
been  obliged  to  keep  him  in  a  strait-waistcoat.  He  did 
not  close  his  eyes  all  last  night,  and  the  guards  who 
watched  him  expected  every  moment  that  he  would  be- 
come delirious.  However,  he  did  not  utter  awoid.  When 
food  was  offered  him  this  morning,  he  resolutely  rejectee 
it,  and  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  it  were  his  intention  to 
starve  himself  to  death.  I  have  rarely  seen  a  more  deter- 
mined criminal.  I  think  him  capable  of  any  desperate 
act." 

"  Ah  ! "  exclaimed  the  clerk,  whose  smile  had  disap- 
peared, "  If  I  were  in  your  place,  sir,  I  would  only  let  him 
in  here  with  an  escort  of  soldiers." 

"  What !  you — Goguet,  you,  an  old  clerk — make  such 
a  proposition  !  Can  it  be  that  you're  frightened  ? " 

"  Frightened  !     No,  certainly  not ;  but — " 

"  Nonsense  !  "  interrupted  Lecoq,  in  a  tone  that  betrayed 
superlative  confidence  in  his  own  muscles ;  "  Am  I  not 
here?" 

If  M.  Segmuller  had  seated  himself  at  his  desk,  that  ar- 
ticle of  furniture  would  naturally  have  served  as  a  rampart 
between  the  prisoner  and  himself.  For  purposes  of  con 
venience  he  usually  did  place  himself  behind  it ;  but  after 
Goguet's  display  of  fear,  he  would  have  blushed  to  have 
taken  the  slightest  measure  of  self-protection.  Accord- 
ingly, he  went  and  sat  down  by  the  fireplace — as  he  had 


rod  MONSIEUR  LECOQ, 

done  a  few  moments  previously  while  questioning  the 
Widow  Chupin — and  then  ordered  his  door-keeper  to  ad« 
mit  the  prisoner  alone.  He  emphasized  this  word 
"  alone. " 

A  moment  later  the  door  was  flung  open  with  a  violent 
jerk,  and  the  prisoner  entered,  or  rather  precipitated  him- 
self, into  the  room.  Goguet  turned  pale  behind  his  table, 
and  Lecoq  advanced  a  step  forward,  ready  to  spring  upoi? 
the  prisoner  and  pinion  him  should  it  be  requisite.  But 
when  the  latter  reached  the  centre  of  the  room,  he  paused 
and  looked  around  him.  "  Where  is  the  magistrate  ?  "  he 
inquired,  in  a  hoarse  voice. 

"  I  am  the  magistrate,"  replied  M.  Segmuller. 

"  No,  the  other  one." 

«*  What  other  one  ?  " 

"  The  one  who  came  to  question  me  last  evening." 

"He  has  met  with  an  accident.  Yesterday,  after 
leaving  you,  he  fell  down  and  broke  his  leg." 

"  Oh  | " 

"  And  I  am  to  take  his  place." 

The  prisoner  was  apparently  deaf  to  the  explanation. 
Excitement  had  seemingly  given  way  to  stupor.  His 
features,  hitherto  contracted  with  anger,  now  relaxed.  He 
grew  pale  and  tottered,  as  if  about  to  fall. 

"  Compose  yourself,"  said  the  magistrate  in  a  benevolent 
tone ;  "  if  you  are  too  weak  to  remain  standing,  take  a 
seat." 

Already,  with  a  powerful  effort,  the  man  had  recovered 
his  self-possession.  A  momentary  gleam  flashed  from  his 
eyes.  "  Many  thanks  for  your  kindness,"  he  replied,  "  but 
this  is  nothing.  I  felt  a  slight  sensation  of  dizziness,  but 
it  is  over  now." 

"  Is  it  long  since  you  have  eaten  anything  ?  " 

"  I  have  eaten  nothing  since  that  man" — and  so  saying 
he  pointed  to  Lecoq — "  brought  me  some  bread  and  wine 
at  the  station-house." 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  to  take  something  ?  n 

"  No— and  yet — if  you  would  be  so  kind — I  should  like 
a  glass  of  water." 

"  Will  you  not  have  some  wine  with  it  ?  " 

"  I  should  prefer  pure  water." 

His  request  was  at  once  complied  with.  He  drained  a 
first  glassfull  at  a  single  draught  •  the  glass  was  th«n  re» 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  107 

plenished  and  he  drank  again,  this  time,  however,  more 
slowly.  One  might  have  supposed  that  he  was  drinking  in 
fife  itself.  Certainly,  when  he  laid  down  the  empty  glass, 
he  seemed  quite  another  man. 

Eighteen  out  of  every  twenty  criminals  who  appear 
before  our  investigating  magistrates  come  prepared  with  a 
more  or  less  complete  plan  of  defence,  which  they  have 
conceived  during  their  preliminary  confinement.  Inno- 
cent or  guilt}7,  they  have  resolved  on  playing  some  part  or 
other,  which  they  begin  to  act  as  soon  as  they  cross  the 
threshold  of  the  room  where  the  magistrate  awaits  them. 

The  moment  they  enter  his  presence,  the  magistrate 
needs  to  bring  all  his  powers  of  penetration  into  play ;  for 
such  a  culprit's  first  attitude  as  surely  betrays  his  plan  of 
defence  as  an  index  reveals  a  book's  contents.  In  this 
case,  however,  M.  Segmuller  did  not  think  that  appearances 
were  deceitful.  It  seemed  evident  to  him  that  the 
prisoner  was  not  feigning,  but  that  the  excited  [frenzy 
which  marked  his  entrance  was  as  real  as  his  after  stupor. 

At  all  events,  there  seemed  no  fear  of  the  danger  the 
governor  of  the  Depot  had  spoken  of,  and  accordingly  M. 
Segmuller  seated  himself  at  his  desk.  Here  he  felt 
stronger  and  more  at  ease  for  his  back  being  turned  to  the 
window,  his  face  was  half  hidden  in  shadow ;  and  in  case 
of  need,  he  could,  by  bending  over  his  papers,  conceal  any 
sign  of  surprise  or  discomfiture. 

The  prisoner,  on  the  contrary,  stood  in  the  full  light,  and 
not  a  movement  of  his  features,  not  the  fluttering  of  an 
eye-lid  could  escape  the  magistrate's  attention.  He 
seemed  to  have  completely  recovered  from  his  indisposi- 
tion ;  and  his  features  assumed  an  expression  which  indi- 
cated either  careless  indifference,  or  complete  resignation. 

"  Do  you  feel  better  ?  "  asked  M.  Segmuller. 

"  I  feel  very  well." 

"  I  hope,"  continued  the  magistrate,  paternally,  "  that  in 
future  you  will  know  how  to  moderate  your  excitement. 
Yesterday  you  tried  to  destroy  yourself.  It  would  have 
been  another  great  crime  added  to  many  others — a  crime 
which—" 

With  a  hasty  movement  of  the  hand,  the  prisoner  inter- 
rupted him.  "  I  have  committed  no  crime,"  said  he,  in  a 
rough,  but  no  longer  threatening  voice.  "  I  was  attacked, 
and  I  defended  myself.  Anyone  has  a  right  to  do  that 


loS  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

There  were  three  men  against  me.  It  was  a  great  misfor- 
tune ;  and  I  would  give  my  right  hand  to  repair  it ;  but  my 
conscience  does  not  reproach  me — that  much  !  " 

The  prisoners  "  that  much,"  was  a  contemptuous  snap  oi 
his  finger  and  thumb. 

"  And  yet  I've  been  arrested  and  treated  like  an  assassin," 
he  continued.  "  When  I  saw  myself  interred  in  that  living 
tomb  which  you  call  a  secret  cell,  I  grew  afraid ;  I  lost  my 
senses.  I  said  to  myself !  *  My  boy,  they've  buried  you 
alive  ;  and  it  is  better  to  die — to  die  quickly,  if  you  don't 
wish  to  suffer.'  So  I  tried  to  strangle  myself.  My  death 
wouldn't  have  caused  the  slightest  sorrow  to  anyone.  I 
have  neither  wife  nor  child  depending  upon  me  for  support. 
However,  my  attempt  was  frustrated.  I  was  bled;  and 
then  placed  in  a  strait-waistcoat,  as  if  I  were  a  madman. 
Mad !  I  really  believed  I  should  become  so.  All  night 
long  the  jailers  sat  around  me,  like  children  amusing  them- 
selves by  tormenting  a  chained  animal.  They  watched  me, 
talked  about  me,  and  passed  the  candle  to  and  fro  before 
my  eyes." 

The  prisoner  talked  forcibly,  but  without  any  attempt  at 
oratorical  display ;  there  was  bitterness  but  not  anger  in 
his  tone ;  in  short,  he  spoke  with  all  the  seeming  sincerity 
of  a  man  giving  expression  to  some  deep  emotion  or  con- 
viction. As  the  magistrate  and  the  detective  heard  him 
speak,  they  were  seized  with  the  same  idea.  "  This  man," 
they  thought,  "  is  very  clever ;  it  won't  be  easy  to  get  the 
better  of  him." 

Then,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  M.  Segmuller  added 
aloud  : — "  This  explains  your  first  act  of  despair ;  but  later 
on,  for  instance,  even  this  morning,  you  refused  to  eat  the 
food  that  was  offered  you." 

As  the  prisoner  heard  this  remark,  his  lowering  face 
suddenly  brightened,  he  gave  a  comical  wink,  and  finally 
burst  into  a  hearty  laugh,  gay,  frank,  and  sonorous. 

"  That,"  said  he,  "  is  quite  another  matter.  Certainly,  I 
refused  all  they  offered  me,  and  now  I  will  tell  you  why. 
As  I  had  my  hands  confined  in  the  strait-waistcoat,  the 
jailer  tried  to  feed  me  just  as  a  nurse  tries  to  feed  a  baby 
with  pap.  Now  I  wasn't  going  to  submit  to  that,  so  I 
closed  my  lips  as  tightly  as  I  could.  Them  he  tried  to  force 
my  mouth  open  and  push  the  spoon  in,  just  as  one  might 
force  a  sick  dog's  jaws  apart  and  pour  some  medicine  dow» 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  109 

its  throat.  The  deuce  take  his  impertinence !  I  tried  to 
bite  him  :  that's  the  truth,  and  if  I  had  succeeded  in  getting 
his  finger  between  my  teeth,  it  would  have  staid  there. 
However,  because  I  wouldn't  be  fed  like  a  baby,  all  the 
prison  officials  raise  their  hands  to  heaven  in  holy  horror, 
and  point  at  me  saying :  '  What  a  terrible  man  !  What  an 
awful  rascal ! ' ': 

The  prisoner  seemed  to  thoroughly  enjoy  the  recollection 
of  the  scene  he  had  described,  for  he  now  burst  into  another 
hearty  laugh,  to  the  great  amazement  of  Lecoq,  and  the 
scandal  of  Goguet,  the  smiling  clerk. 

M.  Segmuller  also  found  it  difficult  to  conceal  his  surprise. 
"  You  are  too  reasonable,  I  hope,"  he  said,  at  last,  "  to 
attach  any  blame  to  these  men,  who,  in  confining  you  in  a 
strait-waistcoat,  were  merely  obeying  the  orders  of  their 
superior  officers  with  the  view  of  protecting  you  from  your 
own  violent  passions." 

"  Hum  1 "  responded  the  prisoner,  suddenly  growing 
serious.  "  I  do  blame  them,  however,  and  if  I  had  one  of 

them  in  a  corner But,  never  mind,  I  shall  get  over  it. 

If  I  know  myself  aright,  I  have  no  more  spite  in  my  com- 
position than  a  chicken." 

"  Your  treatment  depends  on  your  own  conduct,"  rejoined 
M.  Segmuller,  "  If  you  will  only  remain  calm,  you  shan't 
be  put  in  a  strait-waistcoat  again.  But  you  must  promise 
me  that  you  will  be  quiet  and  conduct  yourself  properly." 

The  murderer  sadly  shook  his  head.  "  I  shall  be  very 
prudent  hereafter,"  said  he,  "  but  it  is  terribly  hard  to  stay 
in  prison  with  nothing  to  do.  If  I  had  some  comrades 
with  me,  we  could  laugh  and  chat,  and  the  time  would  slip 
by ;  but  it  is  positively  horrible  to  have  to  remain  alone, 
entirely  alone,  in  that  cold,  damp  cell,  where  not  a  sound 
can  be  heard." 

The  magistrate  bent  over  his  desk  to  make  a  note.  The 
word  "  comrades  "  had  attracted  his  attention,  and  he  pro- 
posed to  ask  the  prisoner  to  explain  it  at  a  later  stage  of 
the  inquiry. 

"  If  you  are  innocent,"  he  remarked,  "  you  will  soon  be 
released  :  but  it  is  necessary  to  prove  your  innocence." 

"  What  must  I  do  to  prove  it  ? " 

"  Tell  the  truth,  the  whole  truth :  answer  my  questions 
honestly  without  reserve." 

u  As  for  that,  you  may  depend  upon  me."    As  he  spoke 


no  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

the  prisoner  lifted  his  hand,  as  if  to  call  upon  God  to  wit- 
ness his  sincerity. 

But  M.  Segmuller  immediately  intervened :  "  Prisoners 
do  not  take  the  oath,"  said  he. 

"  Indeed ! "  ejaculated  the  man  with  an  astonished  air, 
"  that's  strange  !  " 

Although  the  magistrate  had  apparently  paid  but  little 
attention  to  the  prisoner,  he  had  in  point  of  fact  carefully 
noted  his  attitude,  his  tone  of  voice,  his  looks  and  gestures 
M.  Segmuller  had  moreover  done  his  utmost  to  set  the 
culprit's  mind  ac  ease,  to  quiet  all  possible  suspicion  of  a 
trap,  and  his  inspection  of  the  prisoner's  person  led  him  to 
believe  that  this  result  had  been  attained. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  you  will  give  me  your  attention  ;  and 
do  not  forget  that  your  liberty  depends  upon  your  frankness. 
What  is  your  name  ?  " 

1  May." 

'  What  is  your  Christian  name  ?  " 

'  I  have  none." 

'  That  is  impossible." 

'  I've  been  told  that  already  three  times  since  yesterday," 
rejoined  the  prisoner  impatiently.  "  And  yet  it's  the  truth. 
If  I  were  a  liar,  I  could  easily  tell  you  that  my  name  was, 
Peter,  James,  or  John.  But  lying  is  not  in  my  line.  Really, 
I  have  no  Christian  name.  If  it  were  a  question  of  sur- 
names, it  would  be  quite  another  thing.  I  have  had  plenty 
of  them." 

"  What  were  they  ?  " 

"  Let  me  see — to  commence  with,  when  I  was  wilh  Father 
Fougasse,  I  was  called  Affiloir,  because  you  see — " 

"  Who  was  this  Father  Fougasse  ?  " 

"  The  great  wild  beast  tamer,  sir.  Ah  !  he  could  boast 
of  a  menagerie  and  no  mistake  !  Lions,  tigers,  and  bears, 
serpents  as  big  round  as  your  thigh,  paroquets  of  every 
colour  under  the  sun.  Ah !  it  was  a  wonderful  collection 
But  unfortunately — " 

Was  the  man  jesting,  or  was  he  in  earnest  ?  It  was  so 
hard  to  decide,  that  M.  Segmuller  and  Lecoq  were  equally 
in  doubt.  As  for  Goguet,  the  smiling  clerk,  he  chuckled 
to  himself  as  his  pen  ran  over  the  paper. 

"  Enough,"  interrupted  the  magistrate,  "  How  old  are 
you." 

"  Forty-four  or  forty-five  years  of  age." 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  lit 

"  Where  were  you  born  ?  " 

"  In  Brittany,  probably." 

M.  Segmuller  thought  he  could  detect  a  hidden  vein  of 
irony  in  this  reply. 

"  I  warn  you,"  said  he,  severely,  "  that  if  you  go  on  in 
this  way  your  chances  of  recovering  your  liberty  will  be 
greatly  compromised.  Each  of  your  answers  is  a  breach 
of  propriety." 

As  the  supposed  murderer  heard  these  words,  an  ex- 
pression or  mingled  distress  and  anxiety  was  apparent  in 
his  face.  "Ah!  I  meant  no  offence,  sir,"  he  sighed. 
"  You  questioned  me,  and  I  replied.  You  will  see  that  I 
have  spoken  the  truth,  if  you  will  allow  me  to  recount  the 
history  of  the  whole  affair." 

"  When  the  prisoner  speaks,  the  prosecution  is  en- 
lightened,"  so  runs  an  old  proverb  frequently  quoted  at  the 
Palais  de  Justice.  It  does,  indeed,  seem  almost  impossible 
for  a  culprit,  to  say  more  than  a  few  words  in  an  investi- 
gating magistrate's  presence,  without  betraying  his  inten- 
tions or  his  thoughts ;  without,  in  short,  revealing  more  or 
less  of  the  secret  he  is  endeavoring  to  conceal.  All 
criminals,  even  the  most  simple-minded,  understand  this, 
and  those  who  are  shrewd  prove  remarkably  reticent. 
Confining  themselves  to  the  few  facts  upon  which  they 
have  founded  their  defence,  they  are  careful  not  to  travel 
any  further  unless  absolutely  compelled  to  do  so,  and 
even  then  they  only  speak  with  the  utmost  caution. 
When  questioned,  they  reply,  of  course,  but  always  briefly ; 
and  they  are  very  sparing  of  details. 

In  the  present  instance,  however,  the  prisoner  was  prod- 
igal of  words.  He  did  not  seem  to  think  that  there  was 
any  danger  of  his  being  the  medium  of  accomplishing  his 
own  decapitation.  He  did  not  hesitate  like  those  who  are 
afraid  of  misplacing  a  word  of  the  romance  they  are  sub- 
stituting for  the  truth.  Under  other  circumstances, 
this  fact  would  have  been  a  strong  argument  in  his 
favour. 

"You  may  tell  your  own  story,  then,"  said  M.  Seg- 
muller in  answer  to  the  prisoner's  indirect  request. 

The  presumed  murderer  did  not  try  to  hide  the  satis- 
faction he  experienced  at  thus  being  allowed  to  plead  his 
own  cause,  in  his  own  way.  His  eyes  sparkled  and  his 
nostrils  dilated  as  if  with  pleasure.  He  sat  himself  down, 


U2  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

threw  his  head  back,  passed  his  tongue  over  his  lips  as  if 
to  moisten  them,  and  said :  "  Am  I  to  understand  that 
you  wish  to  hear  my  history  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  Then  you  must  know  that  one  day  about  forty-five 
years  ago,  Father  Tringlot,  the  manager  of  a  travelling 
acrobatic  company,  was  going  from  Guingamp  to  Saint 
Brieuc,  in  Brittany.  He  had  with  him  two  large  vehicles 
containing  his  wife,  the  necessary  theatrical  paraphernalia, 
and  the  members  of  the  company.  Well,  soon  after  pass- 
ing Chatelaudren,  he  perceived  something  white  lying  by 
the  roadside,  near  the  edge  of  a  ditch.  '  I  must  go  and 
see  what  that  is,'  he  said  to  his  wife.  He  stopped  the 
horses,  alighted  from  the  vehicle  he  was  in,  went  to  the 
ditch,  picked  up  the  object  he  had  noticed,  and  uttered  a 
cry  of  surprise.  You  will  ask  me  what  he  had  found  ?  Ah ! 
good  heavens  !  A  mere  trifle.  He  had  found  your  hum- 
ble servant,  then  about  six  months  old." 

With  these  last  words,  the  prisoner  made  a  low  bow  to 
his  audience. 

"  Naturally,  Father  Tringlot  carried  me  to  his  wife. 
She  was  a  kindhearted  woman.  She  took  me,  examined 
me,  fed  me,  and  said :  '  He's  a  strong,  healthy  child :  and 
and  we'll  keep  him  since  his  mother  has  been  so  wicked 
as  to  abandon  him  by  the  roadside.  I  will  teach  him  ; 
and  in  five  or  six  years  he  will  be  a  credit  to  us.'  They 
then  asked  each  other  what  name  they  should  give  me, 
and  as  it  happened  to  be  the  first  of  May,  they  decided  to 
call  me  after  the  month,  and  so  it  happens  that  May  has 
been  my  name  from  that  day  to  this." 

The  prisoner  paused  again  and  looked  from  one  to 
another  of  his  listeners,  as  if  seeking  some  sign  of  ap- 
proval. None  being  forthcoming,  he  proceeded  with  his 
story. 

"  Father  Tringlot  was  an  uneducated  man,  entirely 
ignorant  of  the  law.  He  did  not  inform  the  authorities 
that  he  had  tound  a  child,  and,  for  this  reason,  although  I 
was  living,  I  did  not  legally  exist,  for,  to  have  a  legal  ex- 
istence it  is  necessary  that  one's  name,  parentage,  and 
birthplace,  should  figure  upon  a  municipal  register. 

"  When  I  grew  older,  I  rather  congratulated  myself  on 
Father  Tringlot's  neglect.  '  May,  my  boy,1  said  I,  '  you 
are  not  put  down  on  any  government  register,  consequently 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  113 

there's  no  fear  of  your  ever  being  drawn  as  a  soldier.'  I 
had  a  horror  of  military  service,  and  a  positive  dread  of 
bullets  and  cannon  balls.  Later  on,  when  I  had  passed 
the  proper  age  for  the  conscription,  a  lawyer  told  me  that 
I  should  get  into  all  kinds  of  trouble  if  I  sought  a 
place  on  the  civil  register  so  late  in  the  day ;  and  so  I  de- 
cided to  exist  surreptitiously.  And  this  is  why  I  have  no 
Christian  name,  and  why  I  can't  exactly  say  where  I  was 
born." 

If  truth  has  any  particular  accent  of  its  own,  as  moral 
ists  have  asserted,  the  murderer  had  found  that  accent. 
Voice  gesture,  glance,  expression,  all  were  in  accord ;  not 
a  word  of  his  long  story  had  rung  false. 

"  Now,"  said  M.  Segmuller,  coldly,  "  what  are  your 
means  of  subsistence  ?  " 

By  the  prisoner's  discomfited  mien  one  might  have 
supposed  that  he  had  expected  to  see  the  prison  doors  fly 
open  at  the  conclusion  of  his  narrative.  "  I  have  a  pro- 
fession," he  replied  plaintively.  "  The  one  that  Mother 
Tringlot  taught  me.  I  subsist  by  its  practice ;  and  I  have 
lived  by  it  in  France  and  other  countries." 

The  magistrate  thought  he  had  found  a  flaw  in  the 
prisoner's  armour.  "  You  say  you  have  lived  in  foreign 
countries  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"Yes;  during  the  seventeen  years  that  I  was  with  M. 
Simpson's  company,  I  travelled  most  of  the  time  in  Eng- 
land and  Germany." 

"  Then  you  are  a  gymnast  and  an  athlete.  How  is  it 
that  your  hands  are  so  white  and  soft  ? " 

Far  from  being  embarrassed,  the  prisoner  raised  his 
hands  from  his  lap  and  examined  them  with  evident  com- 
placency. "  It  is  true  they  are  pretty,"  said  he,  "  but  this 
is  because  I  take  good  care  of  them  and  scarcely  use 
them." 

"  Do  they  pay  you,  then,  for  doing  nothing  ?  " 

"  Ah,  no,  indeed  !  But,  sir,  my  duty  consists  in  speak- 
ing to  the  public,  in  turning  a  compliment,  in  making  things 
pass  off  pleasantly,  as  the  saying  is  ;  and,  without  boast- 
ing, flatter  myself  that  I  have  a  certain  knack — " 

M.  Segmuller  stroked  his  chin,  according  to  his  habit 
whenever  he  considered  that  a  prisoner  had  committed 
some  grave  blunder.     "  In  that  case,"  said  he,   "  will  you 
give  me  a  specimen  of  your  talent  ? " 
8 


114  MONSIEUR  LECOQ, 

"  Ah,  ha  !  "  laughed  the  prisoner,  evidently  supposing 
this  to  be  a  jest  on  the  part  of  the  magistrate.  "  Ah, 
ha!" 

"  Obey  me,  if  you  please,"  insisted  M.  Segmuller. 

The  supposed  murderer  made  no  objection.  His  face 
at  once  assumed  a  different  expression,  his  features  wear- 
ing a  mingled  air  of  impudence,  conceit,  and  irony.  He 
caught  up  a  ruler  that  was  lying  on  the  magistrate's  desk, 
and  flourishing  it  wildly,  began  as  follows,  in  a  shrill  fal- 
setto voice  :  "  Silence,  music  !  And  you,  big  drum,  hold 
your  peace  !  Now  is  the  hour,  now  is  the  moment,  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  to  witness  the  grand,  unique  performance 
of  these  great  artists,  unequaled  in  the  world  for  their  feats 
upon  the  trapeze  and  the  tight-rope,  and  in  innumerable 
other  exercises  of  grace,  suppleness  and  strength  !  " 

"  That  is  sufficient,"  interrupted  the  magistrate.  "  You 
can  speak  like  that  in  France ;  but  what  do  you  say  in 
Germany  ? " 

"  Of  course,  I  use  the  language  of  that  country." 

"  Let  me  hear,  then  !  "  retorted  M.  Segmuller,  whose 
mother  tongue  was  German. 

The  prisoner  ceased  his  mocking  manner,  assumed  an 
air  of  comical  importance,  and  without  the  slightest  hesi- 
tation began  to  speak  as  follows,  in  very  emphatic  tones  : 
"  Mit  Bewilligung  der  hochloeblichen  Obrigkeit,  wird 
heute,  vor  hiesiger  ehrenwerthen  Burgerschaft,  zum  ersten- 
mal  aufgefuhrt — Genovesa,  oder — " 

This  opening  of  the  prisoner's  German  harangue  may  be 
thus  rendered  :  "  With  the  permission  of  the  local  author- 
ities there  will  now  be  presented  before  the  honourable 
citizens,  for  the  first  time — Genevieve,  or  the — " 

"  Enough,"  said  the  magistrate,  harshly.  He  rose,  per- 
haps to  conceal  his  chagrin,  and  added  :  "  We  will  send 
for  an  interpreter  to  tell  us  whether  you  speak  English  as 
fluently." 

On  hearing  these  words,  Lecoq  modestly  stepped  fpr- 
ward.  "  I  understand  English,"  said  he. 

"  Very  well.     You  hear,  prisoner  ?  " 

But  the  man  was  already  transformed.  British  gravity 
and  apathy  were  written  upon  his  features ;  his  gestures 
were  stiff  and  constrained,  and  in  the  most  ponder- 
ous tones  he  exclaimed :  "  Walk  up  !  ladies  and  gentle 
men,  walk  up  !  Long  life  to  the  queen  and  to  the  honoura 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  HJ 

ble  mayor  of  this  town  !  No  country,  England  excepted 
—our  glorious  England  ! — could  produce  such  a  marvel, 
such  a  paragon — "  For  a  minute  or  two  longer  he  con- 
tinued in  the  same  strain. 

M.  Segmuller  was  leaning  upon  his  desk,  his  face  hid- 
den by  his  hands.  Lecoq,  standing  in  front  of  the 
prisoner,  could  not  conceal  his  astonishment.  Goguet 
the  smiling  clerk,  alone  found  the  scene  amusing. 


XI. 

THE  governor  of  the  depot,  a  functionary  who  had  gained 
the  reputation  of  an  oracle  by  twenty  years'  experience  in 
prisons  and  with  prisoners— a  man  whom  it  was  most  difficult 
to  deceive — had  advised  the  magistrate  to  surround  him- 
self with  every  precaution  before  examining  the  prisoner, 
May. 

And  yet  this  man,  characterized  as  a  most  dangerous 
criminal,  and  the  very  announcement  of  whose  coming  had 
made  the  clerk  turn  pale,  had  proved  to  be  a  practical, 
harmless,  and  jovial  philosopher,  vain  of  his  eloquence,  a 
bohemian  whose  existence  depended  upon  his  ability  to 
turn  a  compliment ;  in  short,  a  somewhat  erratic  genius. 

This  was  certainly  strange,  but  the  seeming  contradic- 
tion did  not  cause  M.  Segmuller  to  abandon  the  theory 
propounded  by  Lecoq.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  more 
than  ever  convinced  of  its  truth.  If  he  remained  silent, 
with  his  elbows  leaning  on  the  desk,  and  his  hands  clasped 
over  his  eyes,  it  was  only  ^that  he  might  gain  time  for 
reflection. 

The  prisoner's  attitude  and  manner  were  remarkable. 
When  his  English  harangue  was  finished,  he  remained 
standing  in  the  ^centre  of  the  room,  a  half-pleased,  half- 
anxious  expression  on  his  face.  Still,  he  was  as  much  at 
ease  as  if  he  had  been  on  the  platform  outside  some 
stroller's  booth,  where,  if  one  could  believe  his  story,  he 
had  passed  the  greater  part  of  his  life.  It  was  in  vain 
that  the  magistrate  sought  for  some  indication  of  weakness 
on  his  features,  which  in  their  mobility  were  more  enig- 
matical than  the  lineaments  of  the  sphinx. 

Thus  far,  M.  Segmuller  had  been  worsted  in  the 
encounter.  It  is  true,  however,  that  he  had  not  as  yet  ven- 


II 6  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

tured  on  any  direct  attack,  nor  had  he  made  use  of  any  of 
the  weapons  which  Lecoq  had  forged  for  his  use.  Still  he 
was  none  the  less  annoyed  at  his  defeat,  as  it  was  easy  to 
see  by  the  sharp  manner  in  which  he  raised  his  head  after 
a  few  moments'  silence.  "I  see  that  you  speak  three 
European  languages  correctly,"  said  he.  "  It  is  a  rare  tal- 
ent." 

The  prisoner  bowed,  and  smiled  complacently.  "  Still 
that  does  not  establish  your  identity,"  continued  the  mag- 
istrate. "  Have  you  any  acquaintances  in  Paris  ?  Can 
you  indicate  any  respectable  person  who  will  vouch  for  the 
truth  of  this  story  ? " 

"  Ah  !  sir,  it  is  seventeen  years  since  I  left  France." 

"  That  is  unfortunate,  but  the  prosecution  can  not  con- 
tent itself  with  such  an  explanation.  What  about  your 
last  employer,  M.  Simpson.  Who  is  he  ? " 

"  M.  Simpson  is  a  rich  man,"  replied  the  prisoner,  rather 
coldly,  "  worth  more  than  two  hundred  thousand  francs, 
and  honest  besides.  In  Germany  he  travelled  with  a 
show  of  marionettes,  and  in  England  with  a  collection  of 
phenomena  to  suit  the  tastes  of  that  country." 

"  Very  well !  Then  this  millionaire  could  testify  in  your 
favour;  it  would  be  easy  to  find  him,  I  suppose." 

"  Certainly,"  responded  May,  emphatically.  "  M.  Simp- 
son would  willingly  do  me  this  favour.  It  would  not  be 
difficult  for  me  to  find  him,  only  it  would  require  consid- 
erable time." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  at  the  present  moment  he  must  be  on  his  way 
to  America.  It  was  on  account  of  this  journey  that  I  left 
his  company — I  detest  the  ocean." 

A  moment  previously  Lecoq's  anxiety  had  been  so  in- 
tense, that  his  heart  almost  stopped  beating ;  on  hearing 
these  last  words,  however,  he  regained  all  his  self-posses- 
sion. As  for  the  magistrate,  he  merely  greeted  the 
murderer's  reply  with  a  brief  but  significant  ejaculation. 

"When  I  say  that  he  is  on  his  way,"  resumed  the 
prisoner,  "  I  may  be  mistaken.  He  may  not  have  started 
yet,  though  he  had  certainly  made  all  his  arrangements 
before  we  separated." 

"  What  ship  was  he  to  sail  by  ?  " 

"He  did  not  tell  me." 

"  Where  was  he  when  you  left  him  ? " 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  117 

"  At  Leipsic." 

"  When  was  this  ? " 

"  Last  Wednesday." 

M.  Segmuller  shrugged  his  shoulders  disdainfully.  "  So 
you  say  you  were  in  Leipsic  on  Wednesday  ?  How  long 
have  you  been  in  Paris  ? " 

"  Since  Sunday  afternoon,  at  four  o'clock." 

"  It  will  be  necessary  to  prove  that." 

Judging  by  the  murderer's  contracted  brow  it  might  be 
conjectured  that  he  was  making  a  strenuous  effort  to 
remember  something.  He  cast  questioning  glances  first 
towards  the  ceiling  and  then  towards  the  floor,  scratching 
his  head  and  tapping  his  foot  in  evident  perplexity.  "  How 
can  I  prove  it — how  ? "  he  murmured. 

The  magistrate  did  not  appear  disposed  to  wait.  "  Let  me 
assist  you."  said  he.  "  The  people  at  the  inn  where  you 
boarded  while  in  Leipsic  must  remember  you." 

"  We  did  not  stop  at  an  inn." 

"  Where  did  you  eat  and  sleep,  then  ? " 

In  M.  Simpson's  large  travelling-carriage ;  it  had  been 
sold,  but  he  was  not  to  give  it  up  until  he  reached  the  port 
he  was  to  sail  from." 

"  What  port  was  that  ? " 

"  I  don't  know." 

At  this  reply  Lecoq,  who  had  less  experience  than  the 
magistrate  in  the  art  of  concealing  one's  impressions,  could 
not  help  rubbing  his  hands  with  satisfaction.  The  prisoner 
was  plainly  convicted  of  falsehood,  indeed  driven  into  a 
corner. 

"  So  you  have  only  your  own  word  to  offer  in  support  of 
this  story  ? "  inquired  M.  Segmuller. 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  said  the  prisoner,  extending  his  arm 
as  if  to  clutch  at  a  still  vague  inspiration — "  wait  a  moment. 
When  I  arrived  in  Paris  I  had  with  me  a  trunk  containing 
my  clothes.  The  linen  is  all  marked  with  the  first  letter 
of  my  name,  and  besides  some  ordinary  coats  and  trousers' 
there  were  a  couple  of  costumes  I  used  to  wear  when  I  ap- 
peared in  public." 

"  Well,  what  have  you  done  with  all  these  things  ? " 

"  When  I  arrived  in  Paris,  I  took  the  trunk  to  a  hotel 
close  by  the  Northern  railway  station — " 

"  Go  on.    Tell  us  the  name  of  this  hotel  ? "  said  M.  Seg- 


n8  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

muller,  perceiving  that  the  prisoner  had  stopped  short, 
evidently  embarrassed. 

"  That's  just  what  I'm  trying  to  recollect.  I've  forgotten 
it.  But  I  haven't  forgotten  the  house..  I  fancy  I  can  see 
it  now ;  and,  if  some  one  would  only  take  me  to  the  neigh- 
bourhood, I  should  certainly  recognize  it.  The  people  at 
the  hotel  would  know  me,  and  besides,  my  trunk  would 
prove  the  truth  of  what  I've  told  you." 

On  hearing  this  statement,  Lecoq  mentally  resolved  to 
make  a  tour  of  investigation  though  the  various  hotels  sun 
rounding  the  Gare  du  Nord. 

"Very  well,"  retorted  the  magistrate.  "Perhaps  we 
will  do  as  you  request.  Now,  there  are  two  questions  I 
desire  to  ask.  If  you  arrived  in  Paris  at  four  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon,  how  did  it  happen  that  by  midnight  of  the 
same  day  you  had  discovered  the  Poivriere,  which  is  merely 
frequented  by  suspicious  characters,  and  is  situated  in  such 
a  lonely  spot  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  find  it  at  night- 
time, if  one  were  not  familiar  with  the  surrounding  local- 
ities ?  In  the  second  place,  how  does  it  happen,  if  you 
possess  such  clothing  as  you  describe,  that  you  are  so 
poorly  dressed  ? " 

The  prisoner  smiled  at  these  questions.  "  I  can  easily 
explain  that,"  he  replied.  "  One's  clothes  are  soon  spoiled 
when  one  travels  third-class,  so  on  leaving  Leipsic  I  put  on 
the  worst  things  I  had.  When  I  arrived  here,  and  felt  my 
feet  on  the  pavements  of  Paris,  I  went  literally  wild  with 
delight.  I  acted  like  a  fool.  I  had  some  money  in  my 
pocket — it  was  Shrove  Sunday — and  my  only  thought  was 
to  make  a  night  of  it.  I  did  not  think  of  changing  my 
clothes.  As  I  had  formerly  been  in  the  habit  of  amusing 
myself  round  about  the  Barriere  d'ltalie,  I  hastened  there 
and  entered  a  wine  shop.  While  I  was  eating  a  morsel, 
two  men  came  in  and  began  talking  about  spending  the 
night  at  a  ball  at  the  Rainbow.  I  asked  them  to  take  me 
with  them ;  they  agreed,  I  paid  their  bills,  and  we  started. 
But  soon  after  our  arrival  there  these  young  men  left  me 
and  joined  the  dancers.  It  was  not  long  before  I  grew 
weary  of  merely  looking  on.  Rather  disappointed,  I  left 
the  inn,  and  being  foolish  enough  not  to  ask  my  way,  I 
wandered  on  till  I  lost  myself,  while  traversing  a  tract  of 
unoccupied  land.  I  was  about  to  go  back,  when  I  saw  a 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  119 

light  in  the  distance.  I  walked  straight  towards  it,  and 
reached  that  cursed  hovel." 

"  What  happened  then  ? " 

"  Oh  !  I  went  in ;  called  for  some  one.  A  woman  came 
downstairs,  and  I  asked  her  for  a  glass  of  brandy.  When 
she  brought  it,  I  sat  down  and  lighted  a  cigar.  Then  I 
looked  about  me.  The  interior  was  almost  enough  to 
frighten  one.  Three  men  and  two  women  were  drinking 
and  chatting  in  low  tones  at  another  table.  My  face  did 
not  seem  to  suit  them.  One  of  them  got  up,  came  towards 
me,  and  said  :  '  You  are  a  police-agent ;  you've  come  here 
to  play  the  spy ;  that's  very  plain.'  I  answered  that  I  wasn't 
a  police-agent.  He  replied  that  I  was.  I  again  declared 
that  I  wasn't.  In  short,  he  swore  that  he  was  sure  of  it, 
and  that  my  beard  was  false.  So  saying,  he  caught  hold 
of  my  beard  and  pulled  it.  This  made  me  mad.  I  jumped 
up,  and  with  a  blow  of  my  fist  I  felled  him  to  the  ground. 
In  an  instant  all  the  others  were  upon  me  1  I  had  my  re- 
volver— you  know  the  rest." 

"  And  while  all  this  was  going  on,  what  were  the  two 
women  doing ! " 

"  Ah  !  I  was  too  busy  to  pay  any  attention  to  them.  They 
disappeared !  " 

"  But  you  saw  them  when  you  entered  the  place — what 
were  they  like  ?  " 

*  Oh !  they  were  big,  ugly  creatures,  as  tall  as  grenadiers, 
and  as  dark  as  moles  ! " 

Between  plausible  falsehood,  and  improbable  truth,  jus- 
tice— human  justice,  and  therefore  liable  to  error — is  com- 
pelled to  decide  as  best  it  can.  For  the  past  hour  M.  Seg- 
muller  had  not  been  free  from  mental  disquietude.  But 
all  his  doubts  vanished  when  he  heard  the  prisoner  declare 
that  the  two  women  were  tall  and  dark.  If  he  had  said : 
"  The  women  were  fair,"  M.  Segmuller  would  not  have 
known  what  to  believe,  but  in  the  magistrate's  opinion  the 
audacious  falsehood  he  had  just  heard,  proved  that  there 
was  a  perfect  understanding  between  the  supposed  mur- 
derer and  Widow  Chupin. 

Certainly,  M.  Segmuller's  satisfaction  was  great;  but 
his  face  did  not  betray  it.  It  was  of  the  utmost  impor- 
tance that  the  prisoner  should  believe  that  he  had  the  suc- 
ceeded in  deceiving  his  examiner.  "  You  must  understand 


120  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

how  necessary  it  is  to  find  these  women,"  said  the  magis- 
trate kindly. 

"  If  their  testimony  corresponds  with  your  allegations, 
your  innocence  will  be  proved  conclusively." 

"Yes,  I  understand  that;  but  how  can  I  put  my  hand 
upon  them  ? " 

"  The  police  can  assist  you — our  agents  are  always  at 
the  service  of  prisoners  who  desire  to  make  use  of  them 
in  establishing  their  innocence.  Did  you  make  any  otr 
servations  which  might  aid  in  the  discovery  of  these  wo- 
men ? " 

Lecoq,  whose  eyes  never  wandered  from  the  prisoner's 
face,  fancied  that  he  saw  the  faint  shadow  of  a  smile  on 
the  man's  lips. 

"I  remarked  nothing," said  the  prisoner  coldly. 

M.  Segmuller  had  opened  the  drawer  of  his  desk  a  mo 
ment  before.  He  now  drew  from  it  the  earring  which  hat 
been  found  on  the  scene  of  the  tragedy,  and  handing  it 
abruptly  to  the  prisoner,  he  asked  :  "  So  you  didn't  notice 
this  in  the  ear  of  one  of  the  women  ? " 

The  prisoner's  imperturbable  coolness  of  demeanor  did 
not  forsake  him.  He  took  the  jewel  in  his  hand,  examined 
it  attentively  held  it  up  to  the  light,  admired  its  brilliant 
scintillations  and  said  :  "  It  is  a  very  handsome  stone,  but 
I  didn't  notice  it." 

"  This  stone,"  remarked  the  magistrate,  "  is  a  dia- 
mond." 

"  Ah ! " 

"  Yes ,  and  worth  several  thousand  francs." 

"  So  much  as  that  I " 

This  exclamation  may  have  been  in  accordance  with  the 
spirit  of  the  part  assumed  by  the  prisoner ;  though,  at  the 
same  time,  its  simplicity  was  undoubtedly  far-fetched.  It 
was  strange  that  a  nomad,  such  as  the  murderer  pretended 
to  have  been,  acquainted  with  most  of  the  countries  and 
capitals  of  Europe,  should  have  displayed  this  astonish- 
ment on  learning  the  value  of  a  diamond.  Still,  M.  Seg- 
muller did  not  seem  to  notice  the  discrepancy. 

"  Another  thing,"  said  he.  "  When  you  threw  dowu 
your  pistol,  crying ;  '  Come  and  take  me,'  what  did  you  in- 
tend to  do  ? " 

"  I  intended  to  make  my  escape." 

"  In  what  way  ?  " 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ  121 


"  Why,  of  course  by  the  door,  sir, — by- 


"  Yes,  by  the  back  door,  "  retorted  the  magistrate,  with 
freezing  irony.  "  It  remains  for  you  to  explain,  how  you — 
you  who  had  just  entered  that  hovel  for  the  first  time — 
could  have  known  of  this  door's  existence." 

For  once,  in  the  course  of  the  examination,  the  prisoner 
seemed  troubled.  For  an  instant  all  his  assurance  forsook 
him.  He  evidently  perceived  the  danger  of  his  position, 
and  after  a  considerable  effort  he  contrived  to  burst  out 
in  a  laugh.  His  laugh  was  a  poor  one,  however,  it  rang 
false,  and  failed  to  conceal  a  sensation  of  deep  anxiety. 
Growing  gradually  bolder,  he  at  length  exclaimed :  "  That's 
nonsense,  I  had  just  seen  these  two  women  go  out  by  that 
very  door." 

"  Excuse  me,  you  declared  a  minute  ago  that  you  did 
not  see  these  women  leave  :  that  you  were  too  busy  to 
watch  their  movements." 

"  Did  I  say  that  ?  " 

"  Word  for  word ;  the  passage  shall  be  shown  you. 
Goguet,  find  it." 

The  clerk  at  once  read  the  passage  referred  to,  where- 
upon the  prisoner  undertook  to  show  that  his  remark  had 
been  misunderstood.  He  had  not  said — at  least,  he  did 
not  intend  to  say — that ;  they  had  quite  misinterpreted  his 
words."  With  such  remarks  did  he  try  to  palliate  the 
effect  of  his  apparent  blunders. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Lecoq  was  jubilant.  "  Ah,  my  fine 
fellow,"  thought  he,  "  you  are  contradicting  yourself — you 
are  in  deep  water  already — you  are  lost.  There's  no  hope 
for  you." 

The  prisoner's  situation  was  indeed  not  unlike  that  of  a 
bather,  who,  unable  to  swim,  imprudently  advances  into 
the  sea  until  the  water  rises  above  his  chin.  He  may 
for  a  while  have  preserved  his  equilibrium  despite  the 
buffeting  of  the  waves,  but  now  he  totters,  loses  his  foot- 
ing— another  second,  and  he  will  sink  ! 

"  Enough — enough  !  "  said  the  magistrate,  cutting  the 
prisoner's  embarrassed  explanation  short.  "  Now,  if  you 
started  out  merely  with  the  intention  of  amusing  yourself, 
how  did  it  happen  that  you  took  your  revolver  with  you  ?  " 

"  I  had  it  with  me  while  I  was  travelling,  and  did  not 
think  of  leaving  it  at  the  hotel  any  more  than  I  thought  of 
ch?nging  my  clothes." 


122  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

"  Where  did  you  purchase  it  ? " 

"  It  was  given  me  by  M.  Simpson  as  a  souvenir." 

"Confess  that  this  M.  Simpson  is  a  very  convenient 
personage,"  said  the  magistrate  coldly.  "  Still,  go  on  with 
your  story.  Only  two  chambers  of  this  murderous  weapon 
were  discharged,  but  three  men  were  killed.  You  have 
not  told  me  the  end  of  the  affair." 

"  What's  the  use  ? "  exclaimed  the  prisoner,  in  saddened 
tones.  "  Two  of  my  assailants  had  fallen ;  the  struggle 
became  an  equal  one.  I  seized  the  remaining  man,  the 
soldier,  round  the  body,  and  threw  him  down.  He  feft 
against  a  corner  of  the  table,  and  did  not  rise  again." 

M.  Segmuller  had  unfolded  upon  his  desk  the  plan  oi 
the  Poivriere,  drawn  by  Lecoq.  "  Come  here,"  he  said, 
addressing  the  prisoner,  "  and  show  me  on  this  paper  the 
precise  spot  you  and  your  adversaries  occupied." 

May  obeyed,  and  with  an  assurance  of  manner  a  little 
surprising  in  a  man  in  his  position,  he  proceeded  to  ex- 
plain the  drama.  "  I  entered,"  said  he,  "  by  this  door, 
marked  C  ;  I  seated  myself  at  the  table,  H,  to  the  left  ol 
the  entrance  :  my  assailants  occupied  the  table  between 
the  fireplace,  F,  and  the  v,  idow,  B." 

"I  must  ad'^v."  sr.id  the  magistrate,  "that  yo  r  asser- 
tions f"Hy  agi^  with  Lie  state.-  ents  of  tbe  physicians, 
who  s..y  that  one  of  the  shots  must  have  been  fired  about 
a  yard  off,  aid  the  other  a^out  two  yards  off." 

This  was  a  victory  for  the  prisoner,  but  he  only  shrugged 
his  shoulders  and  murmured  :  "  That  proves  that  the  phy- 
sicians knew  their  business." 

Lecoq  was  delighted.  This  part  of  the  prisoner's  narra- 
tive not  merely  agreed  with  the  doctor's  statements,  but 
also  confirmed  his  own  researches.  The  young  detective 
felt  that,  had  he  been  the  examiner,  he  would  have  con- 
ducted the  investigation  in  precisely  the  same  way.  Ac- 
cordingly, he  thanked  heaven  that  M.  Segmuller  had  sup- 
plied the  place  of  M.  d'Escorval." 

"  This  admitted,"  resumed  the  magistrate,  "  it  remains 
for  you  to  explain  a  sentence  you  uttered  when  the  agent, 
you  see  here,  arrested  you." 

"  What  sentence  ? " 

"  You  exclaimed  :  '  Ah,  it's  the  Prussians  who  are  com- 
ing ,  I'm  lost ! '  What  did  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

A  fleeting  crimson  tinge  suffused  the  prisoner's  cheek. 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  123 

It  was  evident  that  if  he  had  anticipated  the  other  ques- 
tions, and  had  been  prepared  for  them,  this  one  at  least, 
was  unexpected.  "It's  very  strange,"  said  he,  with  ill- 
disguised  embarrassment, "  that  I  should  have  said  such 
a  thing ! " 

"  Five  persons  heard  you,"  insisted  the  magistrate. 

The  prisoner  did  not  immediately  reply.  He  was  evi- 
dently trying  to  gain  time,  ransacking  in  his  mind  for  a 
plausible  explanation.  "  After  all,"  he  ultimately  said, 
"  the  thing's  quite  possible.  When  I  was  with  M.  Simpson, 
we  had  with  us  an  old  soldier  who  had  belonged  to  Napo- 
leon's body  guard  and  had  fought  at  Waterloo.  I  recollect 
he  was  always  repeating  that  phrase.  I  must  have  caught 
the  habit  from  him." 

This  explanation,  though  rather  slow  in  coming,  was 
none  the  less  ingenious.  At  least,  M.  Segmuller  appeared 
to  be  perfectly  satisfied.  "  That's  very  plausible,"  said 
he ;  "  but  there  if  one  circumstance  that  passes  my  com- 
prehension. Were  you  freed  from  your  assailants  before 
the  police  entered  the  place  ?  Answer  me,  yes  or  no." 

"Yes." 

"  Then,  why,  instead  of  making  your  escape  by  the  back 
door,  the  existence  of  which  you  had  divined,  did  you  re- 
main on  the  threshold  of  the  door,  leading  into  the  back 
room,  with  a  table  before  you  to  serve  as  a  barricade,  and 
your  revolver  levelled  at  the  police,  as  if  to  keep  them  at 
bay?" 

The  prisoner  hung  his  head,  and  the  magistrate  had  to 
wait  for  his  answer.  "  I  was  a  fool,"  he  stammered  at  last. 
"  I  didn't  know  whether  these  men  were  police-agents,  or 
friends  of  the  fellows  I  had  killed." 

"  In  either  case,  your  own  interest  should  have  induced 
you  to  fly." 

The  prisoner  remained  silent. 

"Ah,  well!  "  resumed  M.  Segmuller,  "let  me  tell  you 
my  opinion.  I  believe  you  designedly  and  voluntarily  ex- 
posed yourself  to  the  danger  of  being  arrested  in  order  to 
protect  the  retreat  of  the  two  women  who  had  just  left." 

"  Why  should  I  have  risked  my  own  safety  for  two  hussies 
I  did  not  even  know  ? " 

"Excuse  me.  The  prosecution  is  strongly  inclined  to 
believe  that  you  know  these  two  women  very  well." 

*  I  should  like  to  see  anyone  prove  that  1 "     So  saying 


124  MONSIEUR  L£COQ. 

the  prisoner  smiled  sneeringly,  but  at  once  changed  coun 
tenance  when  the  magistrate  retorted  in  a  tone  of  assur- 
ance, "  I  will  prove  it." 

XII. 

MAGISTRATES  are  frequently  non-plussed  when  dealing 
with  these  difficult  and  delicate  questions  of  personal  iden- 
tity. Railroads,  photography,  and  telegraphic  communica- 
tion have  multiplied  the  means  of  investigation  in  vain. 
Every  day  it  happens  that  criminals  succeed  in  deceiving 
justice  in  regard  to  their  true  personality,  and  thus  escape 
the  consequences  of  former  crimes.  This  is  indeed  so  fre- 
quently the  case  that  an  eminent  French  public  prosecutor 
once  ventured  to  remark  :  "  Uncertainty  as  regards  a  crim- 
inal's identity  will  only  cease  when  the  law  prescribes  the 
branding  of  a  number  on  the  shoulder  of  every  child  whose 
birth  is  reported  to  the  mayor." 

M.  Segmuller  certainly  wished  that  a  number  had  been 
branded  upon  the  enigmatical  prisoner  before  him.  And 
yet  he  did  not  by  any  means  despair,  and  his  confidence, 
exaggerated  though  it  might  be,  was  not  at  all  feigned. 
He  was  of  opinion  that  the  weakest  point  of  the  prisoner's 
defence  so  far,  was  his  pretended  ignorance  concerning 
the  two  women.  He  proposed  to  return  to  this  subject 
later  on.  In  the  meanwhile,  however,  there  were  other 
matters  to  be  dealt  with. 

When  he  felt  that  his  threats  as  regards  the  women  had 
had  time  to  produce  its  full  effect,  the  magistrate  contin- 
ued :  "  So,  prisoner,  you  assert  that  you  were  acquainted 
with  none  of  the  persons  you  met  at  the  Poivriere." 

"  I  swear  it." 

"  Have  you  never  had  occasion  to  meet  a  person  called 
Lacheneur,  an  individual  whose  name  is  connected  with 
this  unfortunate  affair?  " 

"  I  heard  the  name  for  the  first  time  when  it  was  pro- 
nounced by  the  dying  soldier.  Poor  fellow !  I  had  just 
dealt  him  his  death  blow  ;  and  yet  his  last  words  testified 
to  my  innocence." 

This  sentimental  outburst  produced  no  impression  what- 
ever upon  the  magistrate.  "  In  that  case,"  said  he,  "  I 
suppose  you  are  willing  to  accept  this  soldier's  state- 
ment." 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  125 

The  man  hesitated,  as  if  conscious  that  he  had  fallen 
into  a  snare,  and  that  he  would  be  obliged  to  weigh  each 
answer  carefully.  "  I  accept  it,"  said  he  at  last.  "  Of 
course  I  accept  it." 

"  Very  well,  then.  This  soldier  as  you  must  recollect, 
wished  to  revenge  himself  on  Lacheneur,  who,  by  promis- 
ing  him  a  sum  of  money,  had  inveigled  him  into  a  conspir- 
acy. A  conspiracy  against  whom  ?  Evidently  against 
you ;  and  yet  you  pretend  that  you  had  only  arrived  in 
Paris  that  evening,  and  that  mere  chance  brought  you  to 
the  Poivriere.  Can  you  reconcile  such  conflicting  state- 
ments ?  " 

The  prisoner  had  the  hardihood  to  shrug  his  shoulders 
disdainfully,  "  I  see  the  matter  in  an  entirely  different 
light,"  said  he.  "These  people  were  plotting  mischief 
against  I  don't  know  whom — and  it  was  because  I  was  in 
their  way  that  they  sought  a  quarrel  with  me,  without  any 
cause  whatever." 

Skilfully  as  the  magistrate  had  delivered  this  thrust,  it 
had  been  as  skilfully  parried ;  so  skilfully,  indeed,  that 
Goguet,  the  smiling  clerk,  could  not  conceal  an  approv- 
ing grimace.  Besides,  on  principle,  he  always  took  the 
prisoner's  part,  in  a  mild,  platonic  way,  of  course. 

"  Let  us  consider  the  circumstances  that  followed  your 
arrest,"  resumed  M.  Segmuller.  "Why  did  you  refuse 
to  answer  all  the  questions  put  to  you  ?  " 

A  gleam  of  real  or  assumed  resentment  shone  in  the  pris- 
oner's eyas.  "  This  examination,"  he  growled,  "  will  alone 
suffice  to  make  a  culprit  out  of  an  innocent  man !  " 

"  I  advise  you,  in  your  own  interest,  to  behave  properly. 
Those  who  arrested  you  observed  that  you  were  conver- 
sant with  all  the  prison  formalities  and  rules." 

"  Ah !  sir,  haven't  I  told  you  that  I  have  been  arrested 
and  put  in  prison  several  times — always  on  account  of  my 
papers.  I  told  you  the  truth,  and  you  shouldn't  taunt  me 
for  having  done  so." 

The  prisoner  had  dropped  his  mask  of  careless  gaiety, 
and  had  assumed  a  surly,  discontented  tone.  But  his  trou- 
bles were  by  no  means  ended  ;  in  fact,  the  battle  had  only 
just  begun.  Laying  a  tiny  linen  bag  on  his  desk,  M.  Seg- 
muller asked  him  if  he  recognised  it. 

"  Perfectly !  It  is  the  package  that  the  governor  of  the 
Depot  placed  in  his  safe." 


ia6  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

The  magistrate  opened  the  bag,  and  poured  the  dust 
that  it  contained  on  to  a  sheet  of  paper.  "You  are 
aware,  prisoner,"  said  he,  "that this  dust  comes  from  the 
mud  that  was  sticking  to  your  feet.  The  police-agent  who 
collected  it  has  been  to  the  station-house  where  you  spent 
the  night  of  the  murder,  and  has  discovered  that  the  com- 
position of  this  dust  is  identical  with  that  of  the  floor  of 
the  cell  you  occupied." 

The  prisoner  listened  with  gaping  mouth. 

"  Hence,"  continued  the  magistrate,  "  it  was  certainly 
at  the  station-house,  and  designedly,  that  you  soiled  your 
feet  with  that  mud.  In  doing  so  you  had  an  object." 

"  I  wished—" 

"  Let  me  finish.  Being  determined  to  keep  your  identity 
secret,  and  to  assume  the  character  of  a  member  of  the 
lower  classes — of  a  mountebank,  if  you  please — you  reflect- 
ed that  the  care  you  bestow  upon  your  person  might  betray 
you.  You  foresaw  the  impression  that  would  be  caused 
when  the  coarse,  ill-fitting  boots  you  wore  were  removed, 
and  the  officials  preceived  your  trim'  clean  feet  which  are 
as  well  kept  as  your  hands.  Accordingly,  what  did  you  do  ? 
You  poured  some  of  the  water  that  was  in  the  pitcher  in 
your  cell  on  to  the  ground  and  then  dabbled  your  feet  in 
the  mud  that  had  thus  been  formed." 

During  these  remarks,  the  prisoner's  face  wore,  by 
turns,  an  expression  of  anxiety,  astonishment,  irony,  and 
mirth.  When  the  magistrate  had  finished,  he  burst  into  a 
hearty  laugh. 

"So  that's  the  result  of  twelve  or  fourteen  hours' 
research,"  he  at  length  exclaimed,  turning  towards  Lecoq. 
"  Ah  !  Mr.  Agent,  it's  good  to  be  sharp,  but  not  so  sharp 
as  that.  The  truth  is,  that  when  I  was  taken  to  the  sta- 
tion-house, forty-eight  hours — thirty-six  of  them  spent  in  a 
railway  carriage — had  elapsed  since  I  had  taken  off  my 
boots.  My  feet  were  red  and  swollen,  and  they  burned 
like  fire.  What  did  I  do  ?  I  poured  some  water  over 
them.  As  for  your  other  suspicions,  if  I  have  a  soft  white 
skin,  it  is  only  because  I  take  care  of  myself.  Besides, 
as  is  usual  with  most  men  of  my  profession,  I  rarely  wear 
anything  but  slippers  on  my  feet.  This  is  so  true,  that 
on  leaving  Leipsic,  I  only  owned  a  single  pair  of  boots, 
and  that  was  an  old  cast  off  pair  given  me  by  M* 
Simpson." 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  127 

struck  his  chest.  "  Fool,  imbecile,  idiot,  that  I 
arn  ! "  he  thought.  "  He  was  waiting  to  be  questioned 
about  this  circumstance.  He  is  so  wonderfully  shrewd, 
that  when  he  saw  me  take  the  dust,  he  divined  my  inten- 
tions ;  and  since  then  he  has  managed  to  concoct  this 
story — a  plausible  story  enough — and  one  that  any  jury 
would  believe." 

M.  Segmuller  was  saying  the  same  thing  to  himself. 
But  he  was  not  so  surprised  nor  so  overcome  by  the  skill 
the  prisoner  had  displayed  in  fencing  with  this  point. 
"  Let  us  continue,"  said  he.  "  Do  you  still  persist  in  your 
statements,  prisoner  ? " 

"Yes." 

"  Very  well ;  then  I  shall  be  forced  to  tell  you  that 
what  you  are  saying  is  untrue." 

The  prisoner's  lips  trembled  visibly,  and  it  was  with 
difficulty  that  he  faltered :  "  may  my  first  mouthful  of 
bread  strangle  me,  if  I  have  uttered  a  single  falsehood !  " 

"A  single  falsehood  ! — wait." 

The  magistrate  drew  from  the  drawer  of  his  desk  the 
moulds  of  the  foot-prints,  prepared  by  Lecoq,  and  showing 
them  to  the  murderer,  he  said  :  "  You  told  me  a  few 
minutes  ago  that  the  two  women  were  as  tall  as  grena- 
diers ;  now,  just  look  at  the  foot-prints  made  by  these 
female  giants.  They  were  as  '  dark  as  moles,'  you  said  ; 
a  witness  will  tell  you  that  one  of  them  was  a  small,  deli- 
cate featured  blonde,  with  an  exceedingly  sweet  voice." 
He  sought  the  prisoner's  eyes,  gazed  steadily  into  them, 
and  added  slowly :  "  And  this  witness  is  the  driver  whose 
cab  was  hired  in  the  Rue  de  Chevaleret  by  the  two 
fugitives,  both  short,  fair-haired  women." 

This  sentence  fell  like  a  thunderbolt  upon  the  prisoner ; 
he  grew  pale,  tottered,  and  leant  against  the  wall  for 
support. 

"  Ah !  you  have  told  me  the  truth  ! "  scornfully  con- 
tinued the  pitiless  magistrate.  "Then,  who  is  this  man 
who  was  waiting  for  you  while  you  were  at  the  Poivrieve  ? 
Who  is  this  accomplice  who,  after  your  arrest,  dared  to 
enter  the  Widow  Chupin's  den  to  regain  possession  of 
some  compromising  object — no  doubt  a  letter — which  he 
knew  he  would  find  in  the  pocket  of  the  Widow  Chupin's 
apron?  Who  is  this  devoted,  courageous  friend  who 
feigned  drunkenness  so  effectually  that  even  the  police 


128  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

were  deceived,  and  thoughtlessly  placed  him  in  contine- 
ment  with  you  ?  Dare  you  deny  that  you  have  not  arranged 
your  system  of  defence  in  concert  with  him  ?  Can  you 
affirm  that  he  did  not  give  the  Widow  Chupin  counsel  as 
to  the  course  she  should  pursue  ?  " 

But  already,  thanks  to  his  power  of  self-control,  the 
prisoner  had  mastered  his  agitation.  "  All  this,"  said 
he,  in  a  harsh  voice,  "  is  a  mere  invention  of  the  police  !  " 

However  faithfully  one  may  describe  an  examination 
of  this  kind,  a  narrative  can  convey  no  more  idea  of  the 
real  scene  than  a  heap  of  cold  ashes  can  give  the  effect  of 
a  glowing  fire.  One  can  note  down  each  word,  each  ejac- 
ulation, but  phraseology  is  powerless  to  pourtray  the 
repressed  animation,  the  impassioned  movements,  the 
studied  reticence,  the  varied  tones  of  voice,  the  now  bold, 
now  faltering  glances  full  of  hatred  and  suspicion  which 
follow  each  other  in  rapid  succession  mostly  on  the  pris- 
oner's side,  but  not  entirely  so,  for  although  the  magistrate 
may  be  an  adept  in  the  art  of  concealing  his  feelings,  at 
times  nature  cannot  be  controlled. 

When  the  prisoner  reeled  beneath  the  magistrate's  last 
words,  ^the  latter  could  not  control  his  feelings.  "  He 
yields,"  he  thought,  "  he  succumbs — he  is  mine  !  " 

But  all  hope  of  immediate  success  vanished  when  M. 
Segmuller  saw  his  redoutable  adversary  struggle  against 
his  momentary  weakness,  and  arm  himself  for  the  fight 
with  renewed,  and,  if  possible,  even  greater  energy.  The 
magistrate  perceived  that  it  would  require  more  than  one 
assault  to  overcome  such  a  stubborn  nature.  So,  in  a 
voice  rendered  still  more  harsh  by  disappointment,  he 
resumed :  "  It  is  plain  that  you  are  determined  to  deny 
evidence  itself." 

The  prisoner  had  recovered  all  his  self-possession.  He 
must  have  bitterly  regretted  his  weakness,  for  a  fiendish 
spite  glittered  in  his  eyes.  "  What  evidence ! "  he  asked, 
frowning.  "  This  romance  invented  by  the  police  is  very 
plausible,  I  don't  deny  it ;  but  it  seems  to  me  that  the 
truth  is  quite  as  probable.  You  talk  to  me  about  a  cab- 
man whose  vehicle  was  hired  by  two  short,  fair  haired 
women :  but  who  can  prove  that  these  women  were  the 
same  that  fled  from  the  Poivriere  ?  " 

"The  police-agent  you  see  here,  followed  the  tracks 
they  left  across  the  snow." 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  129 

"  Ah !  at  night  time — across  fields  intersected  by 
ditches,  and  up  a  long  street — a  fine  rain  falling  all  the 
while,  and  a  thaw  already  beginning  1  Oh,  your  story  is 
very  probable  1 " 

As  he  spoke,  the  murderer  extended  his  arm  towards 
Lecoq,  and  then,  in  a  tone  of  crushing  scorn,  he  added : 
"  A  man  must  have  great  confidence  in  himself,  or  a  wild 
longing  for  advancement,  to  try  and  get  a  man  guillotined 
on  such  evidence  as  that  1 " 

At  these  words,  Goguet,  the  smiling  clerk,  whose  pen 
was  rapidly  flying  across  the  paper,  could  not  help  remark- 
ing to  himself  j  "The  arrow  has  entered  the  bull's  eye 
this  time ! " 

The  comment  was  not  without  foundation :  for  Lecoq 
was  evidently  cut  to  the  quick.  Indeed,  he  was  so 
incensed,  that  forgetful  of  his  subordinate  position,  he 
sprang  to  his  feet  exclaiming :  "  This  circumstance  would 
be  of  slight  importance,  if  it  were  not  one  of  a  long 
chain — " 

"  Be  good  enough  to  keep  silent,"  interrupted  the  magis- 
trate, who,  turning  to  the  prisoner,  added  :  "  The  court 
does  not  utilize  the  proofs  and  testimony  collected  by  the 
police  until  it  has  examined  and  weighed  them." 

"  No  matter,"  murmured  the  prisoner.  "  I  should  like 
to  see  this  cab-driver." 

"  Have  no  fear  about  that ;  he  shall  repeat  his  evidence 
in  your  presence." 

"  Very  well.  I  am  satisfied  then.  I  will  ask  him  how 
he  can  distinguish  people's  faces  when  it  is  as  dark  as — " 

He  checked  himself,  apparently  enlightened  by  a  sud- 
den inspiration. 

"  How  stupid  I  am  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I'm  losing  my 
temper  about  these  people  when  you  know  all  the  while 
who  they  are.  For  of  course  the  cab-man  drove  them 
home." 

M.  Segmuller  saw  that  the  prisoner  understood  him. 
He  perceived,  moreover,  that  the  latter  was  doing  all  he 
could  to  increase  the  mystery  that  enshrouded  this  essen- 
tial point  of  the  case — a  point  upon  which  the  prosecution 
was  particularly  anxious  to  obtain  information. 

The  prisoner  was  truly  an  incomparable  comedian,  foi 
his  last  observation  was  made  in  a  tone  of  remarkable  can- 


iy>  MONSIEUR  LECO& 

dour,  just  tinged  with  sufficient  irony  to  show  that  he  felt 
he  had  nothing  to  fear  in  this  direction. 

"  If  you  are  consistent  with  yourself,"  remarked  the 
magistrate,  "  you  will  also  deny  the  existence  of  an  accom- 
plice, of  a — comrade." 

"  What  would  be  the  use  denying  it,  since  you  believe 
nothing  that  I  say  ?  Only  a  moment  ago  you  insinuated 
that  my  former  employer  was  an  imaginary  personage  ;  so 
what  need  I  say  about  my  pretended  accomplice  ?  Accord- 
ing to  your  agents,  he's  at  all  events  a  most  faithful  friend. 
Indeed,  this  wonderful  being — invented  by  Monsieur — 
(with  these  words  the  prisoner  pointed  to  Lecoq)  was 
seemingly  not  satisfied  at  having  once  escaped  the  police, 
for,  according  to  your  account,  he  voluntarily  placed  him- 
self in  their  clutches  a  second  time.  You  gentlemen  pre- 
tend that  he  conferred  first  of  all  with  me,  and  next  with 
the  Widow  Chupin.  How  did  that  happen  ?  Perhaps 
after  removing  him  from  my  cell,  some  of  your  agents 
obligingly  shut  him  up  with  the  old  woman." 

Goguet  the  clerk  wrote  all  this  down  admiringly. 
"  Here,"  thought  he,  "  is  a  man  of  brain,  who  understands 
his  case.  He  won't  need  any  lawyer's  eloquence  to 
put  his  defence  favourably  before  a  jury." 

"And  after  all,"  continued  the  prisoner,  "what  are  the 
proofs  against  me  ?  The  name  of  Lacheneur,  faltered  by 
a  dying  man  ;  a  few  foot-prints  on  some  melting  snow  ;  a 
sleepy  cab-driver's  declaration ;  and  a  vague  doubt  about  a 
drunkard's  identity.  If  that  is  all  you  have  against  me,  it 
certainly  doesn't  amount  to  much — " 

"  Enough !  "  interrupted  M.  Segmuller.  "  Your  assurance 
is  perfect  now ;  though  a  moment  ago  your  embarrass- 
ment was  most  remarkable.  What  was  the  cause  of  it  ?  " 

"  The  cause !  "  indignantly  exclaimed  the  prisoner,  whom 
this  query  had  seemingly  enraged  ;  "  the  cause  !  Can't 
you  see,  sir,  that  you  are  torturing  me  frightfully,  piti- 
lessly !  I  am  an  innocent  man,  and  you  are  trying  to  de- 
prive me  of  my  life.  You  have  been  turning  me  this  way 
and  that  way  for  so  many  hours,  that  I  begin  to  feel  as  if 
I  were  standing  on  the  guillotine.  Each  time  I  open  my 
mouth  to  speak  I  ask  myself,  is  it  this  answer  that  will 
send  me  to  the  scaffold  ?  My  anxiety  and  dismay  surprise 
you,  do  they  ?  Why,  since  this  examination  began,  I've 
felt  the  cold  knife  graze  my  neck,  at  lea-st  twenty  times 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  iji 

I  wouldn't  like  my  worst  enemy  to  be  subjected  to  such 
torture  as  this." 

The  prisoner's  description  of  his  sufferings  did  not  seem 
at  all  exaggerated.  His  hair  was  saturated  with  perspira- 
tion, and  big  drops  of  sweat  rested  on  his  pallid  brow,  of 
coursed  down  his  cheeks  on  to  his  beard. 

"  I  am  not  your  enemy,"  said  the  magistrate  more  gen- 
tly.  "  A  magistrate  is  neither  a  prisoner's  friend  nor  en- 
emy, he  is  simply  the  friend  of  truth  and  the  executor 
of  the  law.  I  am  not  seeking  either  for  an  innocent  man 
or  for  a  culprit ,  I  merely  wish  to  arrive  at  the  truth.  I 
must  know  who  you  are — and  I  do  know — " 

"  Ah  ! — if  the  assertion  costs  me  my  life — I'm  May  and 
none  other." 

"  No,  you  are  not." 

"  Who  am  I  then  ?  Some  great  man  in  disguise  ?  Ah ! 
I  wish  I  were  !  In  that  case,  I  should  have  satisfactory 
papers  to  show  you ;  and  then  you  would  set  me  free,  for 
you  know  very  well,  my  good  sir,  that  I  am  as  innocent  as 
you  are." 

The  magistrate  had  left  his  desk,  and  taken  a  seat  by 
the  fire-place  within  a  yard  of  the  prisoner.  "  Do  not  in> 
sist,"  said  he.  Then,  suddenly  changing  both  manner  an<f 
tone,  he  added  with  the  urbanity  that  a  man  of  the  world 
displays,  when  addressing  an  equal :  "  Do  me  the  honour, 
sir,  to  believe  me  gifted  with  sufficient  perspicuity  to  rec- 
ognize, under  the  difficult  part  you  play  to  such  perfection, 
a  very  superior  gentleman — a  man  endowed  with  remark- 
able talents." 

Lecoq  perceived  that  this  sudden  change  of  manner 
had  unnerved  the  prisoner.  He  tried  to  laugh,  but  his 
merriment  partook  somewhat  of  the  nature  of  a  sob,  and 
big  tears  glistened  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  will  not  torture  you  any  longer,"  continued  the  mag- 
istrate. "  In  subtle  reasoning  I  confess  that  you  have  con- 
quered me.  However,  when  I  return  to  the  charge  I  shall 
have  proofs  enough  in  my  possession  to  crush  you." 

He  reflected  for  a  moment,  then  lingering  over  each 
word,  he  added  :  "  Only  do  not  then  expect  from  me  the 
consideration  I  have  shown  you  to-day.  Justice  is  human  , 
that  is,  she  is  indulgent  towards  certain  crimes.  She  has 
fathomed  the  depth  of  the  abyss  into  which  blind  passion 
may  hurl  even  an  honest  man.  To-day,  I  freely  offer  you 


I3*  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

any  assistance  that  will  not  conflict  with  my  duty.  Speak 
Shall  I  send  this  officer  of  police  away  ?  Would  you  like 
me  to  send  my  clerk  out  of  the  room,  on  an  errand  ?  "  He 
said  no  more,  but  waited  to  see  the  effect  of  this  last  ef- 
fort. 

The  prisoner  darted  upon  him  one  of  those  searching 
glances  that  seem  to  pierce  an  adversary  through.  His 
lips  moved ;  one  might  have  supposed  that  he  was  about  to 
make  a  revelation.  But  no ;  suddenly  he  crossed  his  arms 
over  his  chest,  and  murmured  :  "  You  are  very  frank,  sir. 
Unfortunately  for  me,  I'm  only  a  poor  devil,  as  I've  al- 
ready told  you.  My  name  is  May  and  I  earn  my  living  by 
speaking  to  the  public  and  turning  a  compliment." 

"  I  am  forced  to  yield  to  your  decision,"  said  the  mag- 
istrate sadly.  "  The  clerk  will  now  read  the  minutes  of 
your  examination — listen." 

While  Goguet  read  the  evidence  aloud,  the  prisoner  list- 
ened without  making  any  remark,  but  when  asked  to  sign 
the  document,  he  obstinately  refused  to  do  so,  fearing,  he 
said,  "  some  hidden  treachery." 

A  moment  afterwards  the  soldiers  who  had  escorted 
him  to  the  magistrate's  room,  conducted  him  back  to  the 
Depot. 

XIII. 

WHEN  the  prisoner  had  gone,  M.  Segmuller  sank  back 
in  his  arm-chair,  literally  exhausted.  He  was  in  that  state 
of  nervous  prostration  which  so  often  follows  protracted, 
but  fruitless  efforts.  He  had  scarcely  strength  enough  to 
bathe  his  burning  forehead  and  gleaming  eyes,  with  cool 
refreshing  water.  This  frightful  examination  had  lasted 
no  less  than  seven  consecutive  hours. 

The  smiling  clerk,  who  had  kept  his  place  at  his  desk 
busily  writing  the  whole  while,  now  rose  to  his  feet,  glad 
of  an  opportunity  to  stretch  his  limbs,  and  snap  his  fin- 
gers, cramped  by  holding  the  pen.  Still,  he  was  not  in 
the  least  degree  bored.  He  invariably  took  a  semi-theatri- 
cal interest  in  the  dramas  that  were  daily  enacted  in  his 
presence ;  his  excitement  being  all  the  greater  owing  to  the 
uncertainty  that  shrouded  the  finish  of  the  final  act — a  fin- 
ish that  only  too  often  belied  the  ordinary  rules  and  deduc- 
tions of  writers  for  the  stage. 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  133 

"  What  a  knave  ! "  he  exclaimed  after  vainly  waiting  for  the 
magistrate  or  the  detective  to  express  an  opinion,  "  what 
a  rascal ! " 

M.  Segmuller  ordinarily  put  considerable  confidence  in 
his  clerk's  long  experience.  He  sometimes  even  went  so 
far  as  to  consult  him,  doubtless  somewhat  in  the  same 
style  that  Moliere  consulted  his  servant.  But,  on  this 
occasion  he  did  not  accept  his  opinion. 

"  No,"  said  he  in  a  thoughtful  tone,  "  that  man  is  not  a 
knave.  When  I  spoke  to  him  kindly  he  was  really  touched ; 
he  wept,  he  hesitated.  I  could  have  sworn  that  he  was 
about  to  tell  me  everything." 

"  Ah  he's  a  man  of  wonderful  power ! "  observed  Lecoq. 

The  detective  was  sincere  in  his  praise.  Although  the 
prisoner  had  disappointed  his  plans,  and  had  even  insulted 
him,  he  could  not  help  admiring  his  shrewdness  and  cour- 
age. He — Lecoq — had  prepared  himself  for  a  strenuous 
struggle  with  this  man,  and  he  hoped  to  conquer  in  the  end. 
Nevertheless  in  his  secret  soul  he  felt  for  his  adversary, 
admiring  that  sympathy  which  a  "  foeman  worthy  of  one's 
steel "  always  inspires. 

"  What  coolness,  what  courage !  "  continued  the  young 
detective.  "  Ah !  there's  no  denying  it,  his  system  of 
defence — of  absolute  denial — is  a  master-piece.  It  is  per- 
fect. How  well  he  played  that  difficult  part  of  buffoon  ! 
At  times  I  could  scarcely  restrain  my  admiration.  What 
is  a  famous  comedian  beside  that  fellow  ?  The  greatest 
actors  need  the  adjunct  of  stage  scenery  to  support  the 
illusion,  whereas,  this  man,  entirely  unaided,  almost  con- 
vinced me  even  against  my  reason." 

"  Do  you  know  what  your  very  appropriate  criticism 
proves  ?  "  inquired  the  magistrate. 

"  I  am  listening,  sir." 

"  Ah,  well !  I  have  arrived  at  this  conclusion — either 
this  man  is  really  May,  the  stroller,  earning  his  living  by 
paying  compliments,  as  he  says — or  else  he  belongs  to  the 
highest  rank  of  society,  and  not  to  the  middle  classes.  It 
is  only  in  the  lowest  or  in  the  highest  ranks  that  you 
encounter  such  grim  energy  as  he  has  displayed,  such 
scorn  of  life,  as  well  as  such  remarkable  presence  of  mind 
and  resolution.  A  vulgar  tradesman  attracted  to  the 
Poivriere  by  some  shameful  passion  would  have  confessed 
it  long  ago," 


134  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

"But  sir,  this  man  is  surely  not  the  buffoon,  May," 
replied  the  young  detective. 

"No,  certainly  not,"  responded  M.  Segmuller,  "we 
must,  therefore,  decide  upon  some  plan  of  action."  He 
smiled  kindly,  and  added,  in  a  friendly  voice :  "  It  was 
unnecessary  to  tell  you  that,  Monsieur  Lecoq.  Quite 
unnecessary,  since  to  you  belongs  the  honour  of  having 
detected  this  fraud.  As  for  myself,  I  confess,  that  if  I  had 
not  been  warned  in  advance,  I  should  have  been  the  dupe 
of  this  clever  artist's  talent." 

The  young  detective  bowed  ;  a  blush  of  modesty  tinged 
his  cheeks,  but  a  gleam  of  pleased  vanity  sparkled  in  his 
eyes.  What  a  difference  between  this  friendly,  benevolent 
magistrate,  and  M.  d'Escorval,  so  taciturn  and  haughty. 
This  man,  at  least,  understood,  appreciated,  and  encour- 
aged him ;  and  it  was  with  a  common  theory,  and  an 
equal  ardour  that  they  were  about  to  devote  themselves  to 
a  search  for  the  truth.  Scarcely  had  Lecoq  allowed  these 
thoughts  to  flit  across  his  mind,  than  he  reflected  that  his 
satisfaction  was,  after  all,  a  trifle  premature,  and  that  suc- 
cess was  still  extremely  doubtful.  With  this  chilling  con- 
clusion, presence  of  mind  returned.  Turning  towards  the 
magistrate,  he  exclaimed  :  "  You  will  recollect,  sir,  that  the 
Widow  Chupin  mentioned  a  son  of  hers,  a  certain 

Polyte " 

"  Yes." 

"  Why  not  question  him  ?  He  must  know  all  the  fre- 
quenters of  the  Poivriere,  and  might  perhaps  give  us  valu- 
able information  regarding  Gustave,  Lacheneur,  and  the 
murderer  himself.  As  he  is  not  in  solitary  confinement,  he 
has  probably  heard  of  his  mother's  arrest ;  but  it  seems 
to  me  impossible  that  he  should  suspect  our  present  per- 
plexity." 

"  Ah  !  you  are  a  hundred  times  right !  "  exclaimed  the 
magistrate.  I  ought  to  have  thought  of  that  myself.  In 
his  position  he  can  scarcely,  have  been  tampered  with  as 
yet,  and  I'll  have  him  up  here  to-morrow  morning ;  I  will 
also  question  his  wife."  Turning  to  his  clerk,  M.  Seg- 
muller added :  "  Quick,  Goguet,  prepare  a  summons  in  the 
name  of  the  wife  of  Hippolyte  Chupin,  and  address  an 
order  to  the  governor  of  the  Depot  to  produce  her  hus- 
band!" 

But  night  was  coming  on.     It  was  already  too  dark  to 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  I3< 

see  to  write,  and  accordingly  the  clerk  rang  the  bell  for 
lights.  Just  as  the  messenger  who  brought  the  lamps 
turned  to  leave  the  room,  a  rap  was  heard  at  the  door 
Immediately  afterwards  the  governor  of  the  Depot  en 
tered. 

During  the  past  twenty-four  hours,  this  worthy  function- 
ary had  been  greatly  perplexed  concerning  the  mysterious 
prisoner  he  had  placed  in  secret  cell  No.  3,  and  he  now 
came  to  the  magistrate  for  advice  regarding  him.  "  I 
come  to  ask,"  said  he,  "  if  I  am  still  to  retain  the  prisoner, 
May,  in  solitary  confinement  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Although  I  fear  fresh  attacks  of  frenzy,  I  dislike  to 
confine  him  in  the  strait-jacket  again." 

"  Leave  him  free  in  his  cell,"  replied  M.  Segmuller 
"  and  tell  the  keepers  to  watch  him  well,  but  to  treat  him 
kindly." 

By  the  provisions  of  Article  613  of  the  Code,  accused 
parties  are  placed  in  the  custody  of  the  government,  but 
the  investigating  magistrate  is  allowed  to  adopt  such  meas- 
ures concerning  them  as  he  may  deem  necessary  for  the 
interest  of  the  prosecution. 

The  governor  bowed  assent  to  M.  Segmuller's  instruc- 
tions, and  then  added  :  "  You  have  doubtless  succeeded 
in  establishing  the  prisoner's  identity." 

"  Unfortunately,  I  have  not." 

The  governor  shook  his  head  with  a  knowing  air.  "  In 
that  case,"  said  he,  "my  conjectures  were  correct.  It 
seems  to  me  evident  that  this  man  is  a  criminal  of  the 
worst  description — an  old  offender  certainly,  and  one  who 
has  the  strongest  interest  in  concealing  his  identity.  You 
will  find  that  you  have  to  deal  with  a  man  who  has  been 
sentenced  to  the  galleys  for  life,  and  who  has  managed  to 
escape  from  Cayenne." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  mistaken." 

"  Hum !  I  shall  be  greatly  surprised  if  such  should 
prove  the  case.  I  must  admit  that  my  opinion  in  this  mat- 
ter is  identical  with  that  of  M.  Gevrol,  the  most  experi- 
enced and  the  most  skilful  of  our  inspectors.  I  agree 
with  him  in  thinking  that  young  detectives  are  often  over 
zealous,  and  run  after  phantoms  originated  in  their  own 
brains." 

Lecoq,  crimson  with  wrath,   was  about  to  make  an  <w 


136  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

gry  response,  when  M.  Segmuller  motioned  to  him  to 
remain  silent.  Then  with  a  smile  on  his  face  the  mag- 
istrate replied  to  the  governor.  "  Upon  my  word,  rm 
dear  friend,"  he  said,  "  the  more  I  study  this  affair,  the 
more  convinced  I  am  of  the  correctness  of  the  theory  ad- 
vanced by  the  '  over-zealous  '  detective.  But,  after  all,  I 
am  not  infallible,  and  I  shall  depend  upon  your  counsel 
and  assistance." 

"  Oh !  I  have  means  of  verifying  my  assertion,"  interrupted 
the  governor  ;  "  and  I  hope  before  the  end  of  the  next 
twenty-four  hours  that  our  man  will  have  been  identified, 
either  by  the  police  or  by  one  of  his  fellow-prisoners." 

With  these  words  he  took  his  leave.  Scarcely  had  he 
done  so,  than  Lecoq  sprang  to  his  feet.  The  young  de- 
tective was  furious.  "  You  see  that  Gevrol  already  speaks 
ill  of  me  ;  he  is  jealous." 

"  Ah,  well !  what  does  that  matter  to  you  ?  If  you  suc- 
ceed, you  will  have  your  revenge.  If  you  are  mistaken — 
then  I  am  mistaken,  too." 

Then,  as  it  was  already  late,  M.  Segmuller  confided  to 
Lecoq's  keeping  the  various  articles  the  latter  had  accu- 
mulated in  support  of  his  theory.  He  also  placed  in  his 
hands  the  diamond  earring,  the  owner  of  which  must  be 
discovered  ;  and  the  letter  signed  "  Lacheneur,"  which 
had  been  found  in  the  pocket  of  the  spurious  soldier. 
Having  given  him  full  instructions,  he  asked  him  to  make 
his  appearance  promptly  on  the  morrow,  and  then  dis- 
missed him,  saying :  "  Now  go  ;  and  may  good  luck  at- 
tend you ! " 

XIV. 

LONG,  narrow,  and  low  of  ceiling,  having  on  the  one  side 
a  row  of  windows  looking  on  to  a  small  court-yard,  and  on 
the  other  a  range  of  doors,  each  with  a  number  on  its  cen- 
tral panel,  thus  reminding  one  of  some  corridor  in  a  sec- 
ond rate  hotel,  such  is  the  Galerie  d'Instruction  at  the 
Palais  de  Justice  whereby  admittance  is  gained  into  the 
various  rooms  occupied  by  the  investigating  magistrates. 
Even  in  the  day-time,  when  it  is  thronged  with  prisoners, 
witnesses,  and  guards,  it  is  a  sad  and  gloomy  place.  But 
it  is  absolutely  sinister  of  aspect  at  night-time,  when  de- 
serted, and  only  dimly  lighted  by  the  smoky  lamp  of  a 


MONSIEUR  LBCOQ.  137 

solitary  attendant,  waiting  for  the  departure  of  some  mag 
istrate  whom  business  has  detained  later  than  usual. 

Although  Lecoqwas  not  sensitive  to  such  influences,  he 
made  haste  to  reach  the  staircase  and  thus  escape  the  echo 
ot  his  footsteps  which  sounded  most  drearily  in  the  silence 
and  darkness  pervading  the  gallery. 

Finding  an  open  window  on  the  floor  below,  he  looked 
out  to  ascertain  the  state  of  the  weather.  The  tempera- 
ture was  much  milder ;  the  snow  had  altogether  disap- 
peared, and  the  pavement  was  almost  dry.  A  slight 
haze,  illumined  by  the  ruddy  glare  of  the  street  lamps, 
hung  like  a  purple  mantle  over  the  city.  The  streets  be- 
low were  full  of  animation  ;  vehicles  were  rolling  rapidly 
to  and  fro,  and  the  footways  were  too  narrow  for  the  bust- 
ling crowd,  which,  now  that  the  labours  of  the  day  were 
ended,  was  hastening  homeward  or  in  search  of  plea- 
sure. 

The  sight  drew  a  sigh  from  the  young  detective.  "And 
it  is  in  this  great  city,"  he  murmured,  "  in  the  midst  of 
this  world  of  people  that  I  must  discover  the  traces  of  a 
person  I  don't  even  know !  Is  it  possible  to  accomplish 
such  a  feat  ?  " 

The  feeling  of  despondency  that  had  momentarily  sur- 
prised him  was  not,  however,  of  long  duration.  "  Yes,  it 
is  possible,"  cried  an  inward  voice.  "  Besides,  it  must  be 
done  ;  your  future  depends  upon  it.  When  there's  a  will, 
there's  a  way."  Ten  seconds  later  he  was  in  the  street, 
more  than  ever  inflamed  with  hope  and  courage. 

Unfortunately,  however,  man  can  only  place  organs  of 
limited  power  at  the  disposal  of  his  boundless  desires  ^ 
and  Lecoq  had  not  taken  twenty  steps  along  the  streets 
before  he  became  aware  that  if  the  spirit  was  willing, 
the  flesh  was  weak.  His  limbs  trembled,  and  his  head 
whirled.  Nature  was  asserting  her  rights ;  during  the  last 
forty-eight  hours,  the  young  detective  had  taken  scarcely 
a  moment's  rest,  and  he  had,  moreover,  now  passed  an 
entire  day  without  food. 

"  Am  I  going  to  be  ill  ?  "  he  thought,  sinking  on  to  a  bench. 
And  he  groaned  inwardly,  on  recapitulating  all  that  he 
wished  to  do  that  evening. 

If  he  dealt  only  with  the  more  important  matters,  musV 
he  not  at  once  ascertain  the  result  of  Father  Absinthe's 
search  after  the  man  who  had  recognized  one  of  the  victims 


13*  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

at  the  Morgue  ;  control  the  prisoner's  assertions  regard- 
ing the  box  of  clothes  left  at  one  of  the  hotels  surround- 
ing the  Northern  Railway  Station  ;  and  last,  but  not  the 
least,  must  he  not  procure  the  address  of  Polyte  Chupin's 
wife,  in  order  to  serve  her  with  the  summons  to  appear  be- 
fore M.  Segmuller? 

Under  the  power  of  urgent  necessity,  he  succeeded  in 
triumphing  over  his  attack  of  weakness,  and  rose,  murmur- 
ing :  "  I  will  go  first  to  the  Prefecture,  and  to  the  Morgue  ; 
then  I  will  see." 

But  did  not  find  Father  Absinthe  at  the  Prefecture,  and 
no  one  could  give  any  tidings  of  him.  He  had  not  been 
there  at  all  during  the  day.  Nor  could  anyone  indicate, 
even  vaguely,  the  abode  of  the  Widow  Chupin's  daughter- 
in-law. 

On  the  other  hand,  however,  Lecoq  met  a  number  of  his 
colleagues,  who  laughed  and  jeered  at  him  unmercifully. 
"  Ah !  you  are  a  shrewd  fellow  !  "  they  said,  "  it  seems 
that  you  have  just  made  a  wonderful  discovery,  and  it's 
said  you  are  going  to  be  decorated  with  the  Legion  of 
Honour." 

Gevrol's  influence  betrayed  itself  everywhere.  The 
jealous  inspector  had  taken  pains  to  inform  all  his  col- 
leagues and  subordinates  that  poor  Leccq,  crazed  by  ambi- 
tion, persisted  in  declaring  that  a  low,  vulgar  murderer  try- 
ing to  escape  justice  was  some  great  personage  in  disguise. 
However,  the  jeers  and  taunts  of  which  Lecoq  was  the  ob- 
ject had  but  little  effect  upon  him,  and  he  consoled  him- 
self with  the  reflection  that,  "  He  laughs  best,  who  laughs 
the  last." 

If  he  were  restless  and  anxious  as  he  walked  along  the 
Quai  des  Orfevres,  it  was  because  he  could  not  explain 
Father  Absinthe's  prolonged  absence,  and  because  he 
feared  that  Gevrol,  mad  with  jealousy,  might  attempt,  in 
some  underhand  way,  to  frustrate  his,  Lecoq's,  efforts  to 
arrive  at  a  solution  of  the  mystery. 

At  the  Morgue  the  young  detective  met  with  no  better 
success  than  at  the  Prefecture.  After  ringing  three  or 
four  times,  one  of  the  keepers  opened  the  door  and  in 
formed  him  that  the  bodies  had  not  been  identified,  and 
that  the  old  police-agent  had  not  been  seen  since  he  went 
nway  early  in  tl  e  morning. 

"This  is  a  bad  beginning,"  thought  Lecoq.     "I  will  go 


MONSIEURJLECOQ.  139 

and  get  some  dinner — that,  perhaps,  will  change  the  luck ; 
at  all  events,  I  have  certainly  earned  the  bottle  of  good 
wine  to  which  I  intend  to  treat  myself." 

It  was  a  happy  thought.  A  hearty  meal  washed  down 
with  a  couple  of  glasses  of  Bordeaux  sent  new  courage 
and  energy  coursing  though  his  veins.  If  he  still  felt  a 
trifle  weary,  the  sensation  of  fatigue  was  at  all  events 
greatly  diminished  when  he  left  the  restaurant  with  a  cigar 
between  his  lips. 

Just  at  that  moment  he  longed  for  Father  Papillon's 
trap  and  sturdy  steed.  Fortunately,  a  cab  was  passing : 
he  hired  it,  and  as  eight  o'clock  was  striking,  alighted  at 
the  corner  of  the  square  in  front  of  the  Northern  Railway 
Station.  After  a  brief  glance  round,  he  began  his  search 
for  the  hotel  where  murderer  pretended  to  have  left  a  box 
of  clothes. 

It  must  be  understood  that  he  not  present  himself  in  his 
official  capacity.  Hotel  proprietors  fight  shy  of  detectives, 
and  Lecoq  was  aware  that  if  he  proclaimed  his  calling  he 
would  probably  learn  nothing  at  all.  By  brushing  back 
his  hair  and  turning  up  his  coat  collar,  he  made,  however, 
a  very  considerable  alteration  in  his  appearance ;  and  it 
was  with  a  marked  English  accent  that  he  asked  the  land- 
lords and  servants  of  various  hostelries  surrounding  the 
station  for  information  concerning  a  "  foreign  workman 
named  May." 

He  conducted  his  search  with  considerable  address,  but 
everywhere  he  received  the  same  reply. 

"  We  don't  know  such  a  person  ;  we  haven't  seen  any- 
one answering  the  description  you  give  of  him." 

Any  other  answer  would  have  astonished  Lecoq,  so 
strongly  persuaded  was  he  that  the  prisoner  had  only  men- 
tioned the  circumstance  of  a  trunk  left  at  one  of  these 
hotels  in  order  to  give  a  semblance  of  truth  to  his  narra- 
tive. Nevertheless  he  continued  his  investigation.  If  he 
noted  down  in  his  memorandum  book  the  name  of  all 
the  hotels  which  he  visited,  it  was  with  a  view  of  making  sure 
of  the  prisoner's  discomfiture  when  he  was  conducted 
to  the  neighbourhood  and  asked  to  prove  the  truth  of  his 
story. 

Eventually,  Lecoq  reached  the  Hotel  de  Mariembourg, 
at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  St.  Quentin.  The  house  was  of 
modest  proportions ;  but  seemed  respectable  and 


140  MONSIEUR  LECOQ.. 

kept.  Lecoq  pushed  open  the  glass  door  leading  into  the 
vestibule,  and  entered  the  office — a  neat,  brightly-lighted 
room,  where  he  found  a  woman  standing  upon  a  chair,  her 
face  on  a  level  with  a  large  bird  cage,  covered  with  a  piece 
of  black  silk.  She  was  repeating  three  or  four  German 
words  wirh  great  earnestness  to  the  inmate  of  the  cage, 
and  was  so  engrossed  in  this  occupation  that  Lecoq  to 
make  considerable  noise  before  he  could  attract  her  atten 
tion. 

At  length  she  turned  her  head,  and  the  young  detective 
exclaimed — "  Ah  !  good-evening,  madame  ;  you  are  much 
interested,  I  see,  in  teaching  your  parrot  to  talk.  " 

"  It  isn't  a  parrot,"  replied  the  woman,  who  had  not  yet 
iescended  from  her  perch;  "but  a  starling,  and  I  am 
trying  to  teach  it  to  say  '  Have  you  breakfasted  ? '  in  Ger- 
man." 

"  What  I  can  starlings  talk  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  as  well  as  you  or  I,"  rejoined  the  woman, 
jumping  down  from  the  chair. 

Just  then  the  bird,  as  if  it  had  understood  the  question, 
cried  very  distinctly :  "  Camille !  Where  is  Camille  ?  " 

But  Lecoq  was  too  preoccupied  to  pay  any  further  at- 
tention to  the  incident.  "  Madame,"  he  began,  "  I  wish 
to  speak  to  the  proprietor  of  this  hotel.'* 

"  I  am  the  proprietor." 

"  Oh !  very  well,  I  was  expecting  a  mechanic — from 
Leipsic — to  meet  me  here  in  Paris.  To  my  great  surprise, 
he  has  not  made  his  appearance ,  and  I  came  to  inquire  if 
he  was  stopping  here.  His  name  is  May." 

"May!"  repeated  the  hostess,  thoughtfully.    "May!" 

"  He  ought  to  have  arrived  last  Sunday  evening." 

The  woman's  face  brightened.  "Wait  a  moment,"  said 
she.  "  Was  this  friend  of  yours  a  middle-aged  man,  of 
medium  size,  of  very  dark  complexion — wearing  a  full 
beard,  and  having  very  bright  eyes  ? n 

Lecoq  could  scarcely  conceal  his  agitation.  This  was 
an  exact  description  of  the  supposed  murderer.  "Yes," 
he  stammered,  "that  is  a  very  good  portrait  of  the 
man." 

"  Ah,  well !  he  came  here  on  Shrove  Sunday,  in  the 
afternoon.  He  asked  for  a  cheap  room,  and  I  showed 
him  one  on  the  fifth  floor.  The  office-boy  was  not  here  at 
the  time,  and  he  insisted  upon  taking  his  trunk  up  stairs 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  141 

himself.  I  offered  him  some  refreshment ;  but  he  declined 
to  take  anything  saying  that  he  was  in  a  great  hurry ,  and 
he  went  away  after  giving  me  ten  francs  as  security  for  the 
rent." 

"  Where  is  he  now  ? "  inquired  the  young  detective. 

"  Dear  me  !  that  reminds  me,"  replied  the  woman.  "  He 
has  never  returned,  and  I  have  been  rather  anxious  about 
him.  Paris  is  such  a  dangerous  place  for  strangers  !  It  is 
true  he  spoke  French  as  well  as  you  or  I ;  but  what  of  that  ? 
Yesterday  evening  I  gave  orders  that  the  commissary  of 
police  should  be  informed  of  the  matter." 

"  Yesterday — the  commissary  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Still,  I  don't  know  whether  the  boy  obeyed  me. 
I  had  forgotten  all  about  it.  Allow  me  to  ring  for  the  boy, 
and  ask  him." 

A  bucket  of  iced  water  falling  upon  Lecoq's  head,  could 
not  have  astonished  him  more,  than  did  this  announcement 
from  the  proprietress  of  the  Hotel  de  Mariembourg.  Had 
the  prisoner  indeed  told  the  truth  ?  Was  it  possible  ? 
Gevrol  and  the  governor  of  the  prison  were  right,  then, 
and  M.  Segmuller  and  he,  Lecoq,  were  senseless  fools, 
pursuing  a  phantom.  These  ideas  flashed  rapidly  through 
the  young  detective's  brain.  But  he  had  no  time  for  re- 
flection. The  boy  who  had  been  summoned  now  made 
his  appearance,  and  proved  to  be  a  big  overgrown  lad  with 
frank  chubby  face. 

"  Fritz,"  asked  his  mistress,  "  did  you  go  to  the  commis- 
sary's office  ?  " 

"  Yes,  madame." 

"What  did  he  say!" 

"  He  was  not  in ;  but  I  spoke  to  his  secretary,  M.  Casi- 
mir,  who  said  you  were  not  to  worry  yourself,  as  the  man 
would  no  doubt  return." 

"  But  he  has  not  returned." 

The  boy  rejoined,  with  a  movement  of  the  shoulders 
that  plainly  implied :  "  How  can  I  help  that  ?  " 

"  You  hear,  sir,"  said  the  hostess,  apparently  thinking 
the  importunate  questioner  would  now  withdraw. 

Such,  however,  was  not  Lecoq's  intention,  and  he  did 
not  even  move,  though  he  had  need  of  all  his  self-posses- 
sion to  retain  his  English  accent  "  This  is  very  annoy- 
ing," said  he,  "  very  I  I  am  even  more  anxious  and  unde 


142  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

cided  than  I  was  before,  since  I  am  not  certain  that  this  is 
the  man  I  am  seeking  for." 

"Unfortunately,  sir,  I  can  tell  you  nothing  more,"  calmly 
replied  the  landlady. 

Lecoq  reflected  for  a  moment,  knitting  his  brows  and 
biting  his  lips,  as  if  he  were  trying  to  discover  some  means 
of  solving  the  mystery.  In  point  of  fact,  he  was  seeking 
for  some  adroit  phrase  which  might  lead  this  woman  to 
show  him  the  register  in  which  all  travellers  are  compelled 
to  inscribe  their  full  names,  profession,  and  usual  residence. 
At  the  same  time,  however,  it  was  necessary  that  he  should 
not  arouse  her  suspicions. 

"But,  madame,"  said  he  at  'last,  "can't  you  remember 
the  name  this  man  gave  you  ?  Was  it  May  ?  Try  to  rec- 
ollect if  that  was  the  name — May — May !  " 

"  Ah  !  I  have  so  many  things  to  remember.  But  now  I 
think  of  it,  and  the  name  must  be  entered  in  my  book 
which,  if  it  would  oblige  you,  I  can  show  you.  It  is  in  the 
drawer  of  my  writing  table.  Whatever  can  I  have  done 
with  my  keys  ? " 

And  while  the  hostess,  who  seemed  to  possess  about  as 
much  intelligence  as  her  starling,  was  turning  the  whole 
office  upside  down  looking  for  her  keys,  Lecoq  scrutinized 
her  closely.  She  was  about  forty  years  of  age,  with  an 
abundance  of  light  hair,  and  a  very  fair  complexion.  She 
was  well  preserved — that  is  to  say,  she  was  plump  and 
healthy  in  appearance  ;  her  glance  was  frank  and  unem- 
barrassed ;  her  voice  was  clear  and  musical,  and  her  man- 
ners were  pleasing,  and  entirely  free  from  affectation. 

"  Ah  !  "  she  eventually  exclaimed,  "  I  have  found  those 
wretched  keys  at  last."  So  saying,  she  opened  her  desk, 
took  out  the  register,  laid  it  on  the  table,  and  began  turn- 
ing over  the  leaves.  At  last  she  found  the  desired  page. 

"Sunday,  February  2 oth,"  said  she.  "Look  sir:  here 
on  the  seventh  line — May — no  Christian  name — foreign 
artist — coming  from  Leipsic — without  papers." 

While  Lecoq  was  examining  this  record  with  a  dazed 
air,  the  woman  exclaimed  :  "  Ah !  now  I  can  explain  how 
it  happened  that  I  forgot  the  man's  name,  and  strange 
profession— 'foreign  artist.'  I  did  not  make  the  entry 
myself." 

"  Who  made  it,  then  ?  " 

"  The  man  himself,  while  I  was  rinding  ten  francs  to 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  143 

give  him  as  change  for  the  louis  he  handed  me.  You  can 
see  that  the  writing  is  not  at  all  like  that  of  other  entries." 

Lecoq  had  already  noted  this  circumstance,  which  seemed 
to  furnish  an  irrefutable  argument,  in  favor  of  the  asser- 
tions made  by  the  landlady  and  the  prisoner.  "  Are  you 
sure,"  he  asked,  "  that  this  is  the  man's  handwriting  ?  " 

In  his  anxiety,  he  had  forgot  his  English  accent.  The 
woman  noticed  this  at  once  for  she  drew  back,  and  cast  a 
suspicious  glance  at  the  pretended  foreigner.  "  I  know 
what  I  am  saying,"  she  said,  indignantly.  "And  now  this 
is  enough,  isn't  it  ?  " 

Knowing  that  he  had  betrayed  himself,  and  thoroughly 
ashamed  of  his  lack  of  coolness,  Lecoq  renounced  his 
English  accent  altogether.  "  Excuse  me,"  he  said,  "  if  I 
ask  one  more  question.  Have  you  this  man's  trunk  in 
your  possession  ? " 

"  Certainly." 

"  You  would  do  me  an  immense  service  by  showing  it 
to  me." 

"  Show  it  to  you  ! "  exclaimed  the  landlady,  angrily. 
"  What  do  you  take  me  for  ?  What  do  you  want  ?  and 
who  are  you  ?  " 

"  You  shall  know  in  half-an-hour,"  replied  the  young 
detective,  realising  that  further  persuasion  would  be  use- 
less. 

He  hastily  left  the  room,  ran  to  the  Place  de  Roubaix, 
jumped  into  a  cab,  and  giving  the  driver  the  address  of 
the  district  commissary  of  police,  promised  him  a  hundred 
sous  over  and  above  the  regular  fare  if  he  would  only 
make  haste.  As  might  have  been  expected  under  such 
circumstances,  the  poor  horse  fairly  flew  over  the  ground. 

Lecoq  was  fortunate  enough  to  find  the  commissary  at 
his  office.  Having  given  his  name,  he  was  immediately 
ushered  into  the  magistrate's  presence  and  told  his  story 
in  a  few  words. 

"  It  is  really  true  that  they  came  to  inform  me  of  this 
man's  disappearance,"  said  the  commissary.  "  Casimir 
told  me  about  it  this  morning." 

"  They — came — to  inform — you "  faltered  Lecoq. 

"  Yes,  yesterday ;  but  I  have  had  so  much  to  occupy 
my  time.  Now,  my  man,  how  can  I  serve  you  ?  " 

"  Come  with  me,  sir ;  compel  them  to  show  us  the  trunk, 
and  send  for  a  locksmith  to  open  it.  Here  is  the  authority 


144  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

— a  search  warrant  given  me  by  the  investigating  magis- 
trate to  use  in  case  of  necessity.  Let  us  lose  no  time.  I 
have  a  cab  at  the  door." 

"  We  will  start  at  once,"  said  the  commissary. 

The  driver  whipped  up  his  horse  once  more,  and  they 
were  soon  rapidly  rolling  in  the  direction  of  the  Rue  St. 
Quentin. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  the  young  detective,  "  permit  rne  to  ask 
if  you  know  this  woman  who  keeps  the  Hotel  de  Mariem- 
bourg  ? " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  I  know  her  very  well.  When  I  was  first 
appointed  to  this  district,  six  years  ago,  I  was  a  bachelor, 
and  for  a  long  while,  I  took  my  meals  at  her  table  d'hote, 
Casimir,  my  secretary,  boards  there  even  now." 

"  And  what  kind  of  a  woman  is  she  ? 

"  Why,  upon  my  word,  my  young  friend,  Madame  Milner 
— for  such  is  her  name — is  a  very  respectable  widow  (highly 
esteemed  by  her  neighbours)  and  having  a  very  prosper- 
ous business.  If  she  remains  a  widow,  it  is  only  from 
choice,  for  she  is  very  prepossessing  and  has  plenty  of 
suitors." 

"  Then  you  don't  think  her  capable  of  serving,  for  the 
sake  of  a  good  round  sum,  the  interests  of  some  wealthy 
culprit  ?  " 

"  Have  you  gone  mad  ? "  interrupted  the  commissary. 
"  What,  Madame  Milner  perjure  herself  for  the  sake  of 
money  !  Haven't  I  just  told  you  that  she  is  an  honest 
woman,  and  that  she  is  very  well  off !  Besides,  she  in- 
formed me  yesterday  that  this  man  was  missing,  so " 

Lecoq  made  no  reply ;  the  driver  was  pulling  up ;  they 
had  reached  their  destination. 

On  seeing  her  obstinate  questioner  re-appear,  accom- 
panied by  the  commissary,  Madame  Milner  seemed  to 
understand  everything. 

"  Good  heavens  !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  a  detective  !  I 
might  have  guessed  it  ?  Some  crime  has  been  committed ; 
and  now  my  hotel  has  lost  its  reputation  forever !  " 

While  a  messenger  was  dispatched  for  a  locksmith,  the 
commissar}7  endeavoured  to  re-assure  and  console  her,  a 
task  of  no  little  difficulty,  and  which  he  was  some  time  in 
accomplishing. 

At  last  they  all  went  up  to  the  missing  man's  room,  and 
Lecoq  sprang  towards  the  trunk.  Ah  !  there  was  no  deny- 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  145 

ing  it.  It  had,  indeed,  come  from  Leipsic  ;  as  the  labels 
pasted  upon  it  by  the  different  railroad  companies,  only 
too  plainly  proved.  On  being  opened,  it  was,  moreover, 
found  to  contain  the  various  articles  mentioned  by  the 
prisoner. 

Lecoq  was  thunderstruck.  When  he  had  seen  the  com- 
missary lock  the  trunk  and  its  contents  up  in  a  cupboard 
and  take  possession  of  the  key,  he  felt  he  could  endure 
nothing  more.  He  left  the  room  with  downcast  head ; 
and  stumbled  like  a  drunken  man  as  he  went  down  the 
stairs. 

XV. 

MARDI  GRAS,  or  Shrove  Tuesday,  was  very  gay  that 
year ;  that  is  to  say,  all  places  of  public  resort  were 
crowded.  When  Lecoq  left  the  Hotel  de  Mairembourg 
about  midnight,  the  streets  were  as  full  as  if  it  had  been 
noon-day,  and  the  cafes  were  thronged  with  customers. 

But  the  young  detective  had  no  heart  for  pleasure.  He 
mingled  with  the  crowd  without  seemingly  seeing  it,  and 
jostled  against  groups  of  people  chatting  at  the  corners, 
without  hearing  the  imprecations  occasioned  by  his  awk- 
wardness. Where  was  he  going  ?  He  had  no  idea.  He 
walked  on  aimlessly,  more  disconsolate  and  desperate 
than  the  gambler  who  had  staked  his  last  hope  with  his 
last  louis,  and  lost. 

"  I  must  yield,"  he  murmured  ;  "  this  evidence  is  con- 
clusive. My  presumptions  were  only  chimeras ;  my  de- 
ductions the  playthings  of  chance !  All  I  can  now  do  is 
to  withdraw,  with  the  least  possible  damage  and  ridicule, 
from  the  false  position  I  have  assumed." 

Just  as  he  reached  the  boulevard,  however,  a  new  idea 
entered  his  brain,  an  idea  of  so  startling  a  kind,  that  he 
could  scarcely  restrain  a  loud  exclamation  of  surprise. 
"  What  a  fool  I  am  !  "  cried  he,  striking  his  hand  violently 
against  his  forehead.  "  Is  it  possible  to  be  so  strong  in 
theory,  and  yet  so  ridiculously  weak  in  practice.  Ah !  I 
am  only  a  child,  a  mere  novice,  disheartened  by  the  slightest 
obstacle.  I  meet  with  a  difficulty,  and  at  once  I  lose  all 
my  courage.  Now,  let  me  reflect  calmly.  What  did  I 
tell  the  judge  about  this  murderer,  whose  plan  of  defence 
so  puzzles  us  ?  Did  I  not  tell  him  that  we  had  to  deal 
10 


i46  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

with  a  man  of  superior  talent — with  a  man  of  consummate 
penetration,  and  experience — a  bold,  courageous  fellow  of 
imperturbable  coolness,  who  will  do  anything  to  ensure  the 
success  of  his  plans  ?  Yes  ;  I  told  him  all  that,  and  yet, 
I  give  up  the  game  in  despair  as  soon  as  I  meet  with  a 
single  circumstance  that  I  cannot  instantly  explain.  It  is 
evident  that  such  a  prisoner  would  not  resort  to  old, 
hackneyed,  commonplace  expedients.  Time,  patience,  and 
research  are  requisite  to  find  a  flaw  in  his  defence.  With 
such  a  man  as  he  is,  the  more  appearances  are  against  my 
presumptions,  and  in  favor  of  his  narrative,  the  more  cer- 
tain it  is  that  I  am  right — or  else,  logic  is  no  longer 
logic." 

At  this  thought,  Lecoq  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh. 
"  Still,"  continued  he,  "  it  would  perhaps  be  premature  to 
expose  this  theory  at  head-quarters  in  Gevrol's  presence. 
He  would  at  once  present  me  with  a  certificate  for  admis- 
sion into  some  lunatic  asylum." 

The  young  detective  paused.  Whilst,  absorbed  in 
thought,  his  legs  obeying  an  instinctive  impulse,  had 
brought  him  to  his  lodgings.  He  rang  the  bell  ;  the  door 
opened,  and  he  groped  his  way  slowly  up  to  the  fourth 
floor.  He  had  reached  his  room,  and  was  about  to  enter, 
when  someone,  whom  he  could  not  distinguish  in  the  dark 
called  out :  "  Is  that  you,  Monsieur  Lecoq  ? " 

"  Yes,  it's  I ! "  replied  the  young  man,  somewhat  sur- 
prised ;  "  but  who  are  you  ?  " 

"  I'm  Father  Absinthe." 

"  Oh !  indeed !  Well,  you  are  welcome  !  I  didn't  recog- 
nize your  voice — will  you  come  in  ? " 

They  entered  the  room,  and  Lecoq  lit  a  candle.  Then 
the  young  man  could  see  his  colleague,  and,  good  heavens ! 
he  found  him  in  a  most  pitiable  condition. 

He  was  as  dirty  and  as  bespattered  with  mud  as  a  lost 
dog  that  has  been  wandering  about  in  the  rain  and  the 
mire  for  a  week  at  the  very  least.  His  overcoat  bore  the 
traces  of  frequent  contact  with  damp  walls  ;  his  hat  had 
lost  its  form  entirely.  His  eyes  wore  an  anxious  look,  and 
his  moustache  drooped  despondently.  He  spoke,  more- 
over, so  strangely  that  one  might  have  supposed  his  mouth 
was  full  of  sand. 

"Do  you  bring  me  bad  news?  "  inquired  Lecoq,  after  a 
short  examination  of  his  companion. 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  147 

"  Yes,  bad." 

"  The  people  you  were  following  escaped  you,  then  ?  " 

The  old  man  nodded  his  head  affirmatively. 

"  It  is  unfortunate — very  unfortunate  !  "  said  Lecoq. 
u  But  it  is  useless  to  distress  ourselves  about  it.  Don't  be 
so  cast  down,  Father  Absinthe.  To-morrow,  between  us, 
we  will  repair  the  damage." 

This  friendly  encouragement  only  increased  the  old 
man's  evident  embarrassment.  He  blushed,  this  veteran, 
as  if  he  had  been  a  school-girl,  and  raising  his  hands  tow- 
ards heaven,  he  exclaimed  :  "  Ah,  you  wretch  !  didn't  I 
tell  you  so  ?  " 

"  Why !  what  is  the  matter  with  you  ? "  inquired  Lecoq. 

Father  Absinthe  made  no  reply.  Approaching  a  looking 
glass  that  hung  against  the  wall,  he  surveyed  himself  re- 
proachfully and  began  to  heap  cruel  insults  upon  the  re- 
flection of  his  features. 

"  You  old  good-for-nothing  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  You 
vile  deserter  !  have  you  no  shame  left  ?  You  were  en- 
trusted with  a  mission,  were  you  not  ?  And  how  have  you 
fulfilled  it?  You  have  got  drunk,  you  old  wretch,  so 
drunk  as  to  have  lost  your  wits.  Ah,  you  shan't  escape 
punishment  this  time,  for  even  if  M.  Lecoq  is  indulgent, 
you  shan't  taste  another  drop  for  a  week.  Yes,  you  old 
sot,  you  shall  suffer  for  this  escapade." 

"Come,  come,"  said  Lecoq,  "you  can  sermonize  by 
and  bye.  Now  tell  me  your  story." 

"  Ah  !  I  am  not  proud  of  it,  believe  me.  However, 
never  mind.  No  doubt  you  received  the  letter  in  which  I 
told  you  I  was  going  to  follow  the  young  men  who  seemed 
i>  recognise  Gustave  ? " 

"  Yes,  yes — go  on  !  " 

"  Well,  as  soon  as  they  entered  the  cafe,  into  which  I 
had  followed  them,  they  began  drinking,  probably  to  drive 
away  their  emotion.  After  that,  they  apparently  felt  hun- 
gry. At  all  events  they  ordered  breakfast.  I  followed 
their  example.  The  meal,  with  coffee  and  beer  after- 
wards, took  up  no  little  time,  and  indeed  a  couple  of  hours 
had  elapsed  before  they  were  ready  to  pay  their  bill  and 
go.  Good  !  I  supposed  they  would  now  return  home,  not 
at  all.  They  walked  down  the  Rue  Dauphin ;  and  I  saw 
then}  enter  another  cafe.  Five  minutes  later  I  glided  in 


I48  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

after  them  ;  and  found  them  already  engaged  in  a  game  of 
billiards." 

At  this  point,  Father  Absinthe  hesitated  ;  it  is  no  easy 
task  to  recount  one's  blunders  to  the  very  person  who  has 
suffered  by  them. 

"  I  seated  myself  at  a  little  table,"  he  eventually  re- 
sumed, "  and  asked  for  a  newspaper.  I  was  reading  with 
one  eye  and  watching  them  with  the  other,  when  a  respect 
able  looking  man  entered,  and  took  a  seat  beside  me.  As 
soon  as  he  had  seated  himself  he  asked  me  to  let  him  have 
the  paper  when  I  had  finished  with  it.  I  handed  it  to  him, 
and  then  we  began  talking  about  the  weather.  At  last  he 
proposed  a  game  of  bezique.  I  declined,  but  we  after- 
wards compromised  the  matter  by  having  a  game  of  piquet. 
The  young  men,  you  understand,  were  still  knocking  the 
balls  about.  We  began  by  playing  for  a  glass  of  brandy 
each.  I  won.  My  adversary  asked  for  his  revenge,  and 
we  played  two  games  more.  I  still  kept  on  winning.  He 
Insisted  upon  another  game,  and  again  I  won,  and  still  I 
drank — and  drank  again — " 

"Go  on,  go  on." 

"  Ah !  here's  the  rub.  After  that  I  remember  nothing 
— nothing  either  about  the  man  I  had  been  playing  with, 
or  the  young  men.  It  seems  to  me,  however,  that  I  rec- 
ollect falling  asleep  in  the  cafe,  and  that  a  long  while 
afterwards  a  waiter  came  and  woke  me  and  told  me  to  go. 
Then  I  must  have  wandered  about  along  the  quays  until 
I  came  to  my  senses,  and  decided  to  go  to  your  lodgings 
and  wait  on  the  stairs  until  you  returned." 

To  Father  Absinthe's  great  surprise,  Lecoq  seemed 
rather  thoughtful  than  augry.  "  What  do  you  think  about 
this  chance  acquaintance  of  yours,  papa  ?  "  asked  the 
young  detective. 

"  I  think  he  was  following  me  while  I  was  following  the 
others,  and  that  he  entered  the  cafe  with  the  view  of  mak- 
ing me  drunk." 

"  What  was  he  like  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he  was  a  tall,  stoutish  man,  with  a  broad,  red 
face,  and  a  flat  nose ;  and  he  was  very  unpretending  and 
affable  in  manner." 

"  It  was  he  !  "  exclaimed  Lecoq. 

"  He !     Who  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  accomplice — the  man  whose  foot-prints  we 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  149 

discovered — the  pretended  drunkard — a  devil  incarnate, 
who  will  get  the  best  of  us  yet,  if  we  don't  keep  our  eyes 
open.  Don't  you  forget  him,  papa ;  and  if  you  ever  meet 
him  again — " 

But  Father  Absinthe's  confession  was  not  ended.  Like 
most  devotees,  he  had  reserved  the  worst  sin  for  the 
last. 

"  But  that's  not  all,"  he  resumed ;  "  and  as  its  best  to 
make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  I  will  tell  you  that  it  seems  to 
me  this  traitor  talked  about  the  affair  at  the  Poivriere, 
and  that  I  told  him  all  we  had  discovered,  and  all  we  in- 
tended to  do." 

Lecoq  made  such  a  threatening  gesture  that  the  old 
tippler  drew  back  in  consternation.  "  You  wretched 
man !  "  exclaimed  the  young  detective,  "  to  betray  our 
plans  to  the  enemy !  " 

But  his  calmness  soon  returned.  If  at  first  sight  the 
evil  seemed  to  be  beyond  remedy,  on  further  thought,  it 
had  a  good  side  after  all.  It  sufficed  to  dispel  all  the 
doubts  that  had  assailed  Lecoq's  mind  after  his  visit  to 
the  Hotel  de  Mariembourg. 

"  However,"  quoth  our  hero,  "  this  is  not  the  time  for 
deliberation.  I  am  overcome  with  fatigue ;  take  a  mat- 
tress from  the  bed  for  yourself,  my  friend,  and  let  us  get 
a  little  sleep." 

Lecoq  was  a  man  of  considerable  forethought.  Hence, 
before  going  to  bed  he  took  good  care  to  wind  up  his 
alarum  so  that  it  might  wake  him  at  six  o'clock.  "  With 
that  to  warn  us,"  he  remarked  to  his  companion,  as  he 
blew  out  the  candle,  "  there  need  be  no  fear  of  our  miss- 
ing the  coach." 

He  had  not,  however,  made  allowance  for  his  own  ex- 
treme weariness  or  for  the  soporific  effect  of  the  alcoholic 
fumes  with  which  his  comrade's  breath  was  redolent. 
When  six  o'clock  struck  at  the  church  of  St.  Eustache, 
the  young  detective's  alarum  resounded  faithfully  enough, 
with  a  loud  and  protracted  whirr.  Shrill  and  sonorous  as 
tras  the  sound,  it  failed  however  to  break  the  heavy  sleep 
of  the  two  detectives.  They  would  indeed,  in  all  prob- 
ability, have  continued  slumbering  for  several  hours  longer, 
if  at  halfpast  seven  a  sturdy  fist  had  not  begun  to  rap 
loudly  at  the  door.  With  one  bound,  Lecoq  was  out  of 


1 9>  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

bed,  amazed  at  seeing  the  bright  sunlight,  and  furious  at 
the  futility  of  his  precautions. 

"  Come  in  !  "  he  cried  to  his  early  visitor.  He  had  no 
enemies  to  fear,  and  could,  without  danger,  sleep  with  his 
door  unlocked. 

In  response  to  his  call,  Father  Papillon's  shrewd  face 
peered  into  the  room. 

"  Ah !  it  is  my  worthy  coachman !  "  exclaimed  Lecoq. 
"  Is  there  anything  new  ?  " 

"  Excuse  me,  but  it's  the  old  affair  that  brings  me  here," 
replied  our  eccentric  friend  the  cabman.  "  You  know — 
the  thirty  francs  those  wretched  women  paid  me.  Really, 
I  shan't  sleep  in  peace  till  you  have  worked  off  the  amount 
by  using  my  vehicle.  Our  drive  yesterday  lasted  two 
hours  and  a  half  which,  according  to  the  regular  fare, 
would  be  worth  a  hundred  sous ;  so  you  see  I've  still 
more  than  twelve  hours  at  your  disposal." 

"  That  is  all  nonsense,  my  friend  !  " 

"  Possibly,  but  I  am  responsible  for  it,  and  if  you  won't 
use  my  cab,  I've  sworn  to  spend  those  twelve  hours  wait- 
ing outside  your  door.  So  now  make  up  your  mind." 
He  gazed  at  Lecoq  beseechingly,  and  it  was  evident  that 
a  refusal  would  wound  him  keenly. 

"  Very  well,"  replied  Lecoq,  "  I  will  take  you  for  the 
morning,  only  I  ought  to  warn  you  that  we  are  starting  on 
a  long  journey." 

"  Oh,  Cocotte's  legs  may  be  relied  upon." 

"  My  companion  and  myself  have  business  in  your  own 
neighbourhood.  It  is  absolutely  necessary  for  us  to  find 
the  Widow  Chupin's  daughter-in-law ;  and  I  hope  we  shall 
be  able  to  obtain  her  address  from  the  police  commissary 
of  the  district  where  the  Poivriere  is  situated." 

"  Very  well,  we  will  go  nherever  you  wish ;  I  am  at 
your  orders." 

A  few  moments  later  they  were  on  their  way. 

Papillon's  features  wore  an  air  of  self-satisfied  pride,  as 
sitting  erect  on  his  box,  he  cracked  his  whip,  and  encour- 
aged the  nimble  Cocotte.  The  vehicle  could  not  have  got 
over  the  ground  more  rapidly  if  its  driver  had  been  prom- 
ised a  hundred  sous  gratuity. 

Father  Absinthe  alone  was  sad.  He  had  been  forgiven 
by  Lecoq,  but  he  could  not  forget  that  he,  an  old  police* 
agent,  had  been  duped  as  easily  as  if  he  had  been  soma 


MONSIEUR  LECO&  151 

Ignorant  provincial.  The  thought  was  humiliating  and 
then  in  addition  he  had  been  fool  enough  to  reveal  the 
secret  plans  of  the  prosecution !  He  knew  but  too  well 
that  this  act  of  folly  had  doubled  the  difficulties  of  Lecoq's 
task. 

The  long  drive  in  Father  Papillon's  cab  was  not  a  fruit- 
less one.  The  secretary  of  the  commissary  of  police  for 
the  thirteenth  arrondissement  informed  Lecoq  that  Polyte 
Chupin's  wife  lived  with  her  child,  in  the  suburbs,  in  the 
Rue  de  la  Butte-aux-Cailles.  He  could  not  indicate  the 
precise  number,  but  he  described  the  house,  and  gave 
them  some  information  concerning  its  occupants. 

The  Widow  Chupin's  daughter-in-law,  a  native  of  Au- 
vergne,  had  been  bitterly  punished  for  preferring  a  rakish 
Parisian  ragamuffin  to  one  of  the  grimy  charcoal  burners 
of  the  Puy  de  Dome.  She  was  hardly  more  than  twelve 
years  of  age  when  she  first  came  to  Paris  and  obtained 
employment  in  a  large  factory.  After  ten  years'  privation 
and  constant  toil,  she  had  managed  to  amass,  sou  by  sou, 
the  sum  of  three  thousand  francs.  Then  her  evil  genius 
threw  Polyte  Chupin  across  her  path.  She  fell  in  love 
with  this  dissipated,  selfish  rascal;  and  he  married  her 
for  the  sake  of  her  little  hoard. 

As  long  as  the  money  lasted,  that  is,  for  some  three  or 
four  months,  matters  went  on  pleasantly  enough.  But  as 
soon  as  the  last  franc  had  been  spent,  Polyte  left  his  wife, 
and  complacently  resumed  his  former  life  of  idleness, 
thieving,  and  debauchery.  When  at  times  he  returned  home, 
it  was  merely  with  the  view  of  robbing  his  wife  of  what  little 
money  she  might  have  saved  in  the  meanwhile ;  and 
periodically,  she  uncomplainingly  allowed  him  to  despoil 
her  of  the  last  penny  of  her  earnings. 

Horrible  to  relate,  this  unworthy  rascal  even  tried  to  trade 
on  her  good  looks.  Here,  however,  he  met  with  a  strenuous 
resistance — a  resistance  which  excited  not  merely  his  own 
ire,  but  also  the  hatred  of  the  villain's  mother — that  old  hag 
the  Widow  Chupin.  The  result  was  that  Polyte's  wife  was 
subjected  to  such  incessant  cruelty  and  persecution  that 
one  night  she  was  forced  to  fly  with  only  the  rags  that 
covered  her.  The  Chupins — mother  and  son — believed, 
perhaps,  that  starvation  would  effect  what  their  horrible 
threats,  and  insiduous  counsel  had  failed  to  accomplish, 
ir  shameful  expectations  were  not,  however  gratified. 


152  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

In  mentioning  these  facts  to  Lecoq,  the  commissary's 
secretary  added  that  they  had  become  widely  known,  and 
that  the  unfortunate  creature's  force  of  character  had  won 
for  her  general  respect.  Among  those  she  frequented, 
moreover,  she  was  known  by  the  nickname  of  "  Toinon  the 
Virtuous  " — a  rather  vulgar,  but,  at  all  events,  sincere 
tribute  to  her  worth. 

Grateful'for  this  information,  Lecoq  returned  to  the  cab. 
The  Rue  de  la  Butte-aux-Cailles,  whither  Papillon  was  now 
directed  to  drive,  proved  to  be  very  unlike  the  Boulevard 
Malesherbes,  and  one  brief  glance  sufficed  to  show  that 
opulence  had  not  here  fixed  its  abode.  Luck  seemed  for 
the  moment  to  have  turned  in  Lecoq's  favour.  At  all  events 
when  he  and  Father  Absinthe  alighted  at  the  corner  of  the 
street,  it  so  happened  that  the  very  first  person  the  young 
detective  questioned  concerning  the  virtuous  Toinon  was 
well  acquainted  with  her  whereabouts.  The  house  in  which 
she  resided  was  pointed  out,  and  Lecoq  was  instructed  to 
go  upstairs  to  the  top  floor,  and  knock  at  the  door  in  front 
of  him.  With  such  precise  directions  the  two  detectives 
speedily  reached  Madame  Polyte  Chupin's  abode. 

This  proved  to  be  a  cold  and  gloomy  attic  of  medium  size, 
windowless,  but  provided  with  a  small  skylight.  A  straw 
pallet,  a  broken  table,  two  chairs,  and  a  few  plain  kitchen 
utensils  constituted  the  sole  appointments  of  this  miserable 
garret.  But  in  spite  of  the  occupant's  evident  poverty, 
everything  was  neat  and  clean,  and  to  use  a  forcible  expres- 
sion that  fell  from  Father  Absinthe,  one  could  have  eaten 
off  the  floor. 

The  two  detectives  entered,  and  found  a  woman  busily 
engaged  in  making  a  heavy  linen  sack.  She  was  seated  in 
the  centre  of  the  room,  directly  under  the  skylight,  so  that 
the  sun's  rays  might  fall  upon  her  work.  At  the  sight  of 
two  strangers,  she  half  rose  from  her  chair,  surprised,  and 
perhaps  a  little  frightened  ;  but  when  Lecoq  had  explained 
that  they  desired  a  few  moments'  conversation  with  her, 
she  gave  up  her  own  seat,  and  drawing  the  second  chair 
from  a  corner,  invited  both  detectives  to  sit  down.  Lecoq 
complied,  but  Father  Absinthe  declared  that  he  preferred 
to  remain  standing. 

With  a  single  glance,  Lecoq  took  an  inventory  of  the 
humble  abode,  and  so  to  speak,  appraised  the  woman.  She 
was  short,  stout,  and  of  commonplace  appearance.  He/ 


Madame,  you  have  doubtless  heard  of  a  dreadful  crime  com- 
mitted in  your  mother-in-law's  establishment,'  began 
Lecoq,  in  a  soft  voice." 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  153 

forehead  was  extremely  low,  being  crowned  by  a  forest  of 
coarse,  black  hair  ;  while  the  expression  of  her  large,  black 
eyes,  set  very  close  together,  reca.led  the  look  of  patient 
resignation,  one  so  often  detects  in  ill-treated  and  neglected 
animals.  Possibly,  in  former  days,  she  might  have  possessed 
that  fleeting  attraction  called  the  beautedu  diable;  but  now 
she  looked  almost  as  old  as  her  wretched  mother-in-law. 
Sorrow  and  privation,  excessive  toil  and  ill-treatment,  had 
imparted  to  her  face  a  livid  hue,  reddening  her  eyes,  and 
stamping  deep  furrows  round  about  her  temples.  Still, 
there  was  an  attribute  of  native  honesty  about  her  which 
even  the  foul  atmosphere  in  which  she  had  been  compelled 
to  live  had  not  sufficed  to  taint. 

Her  little  boy  furnished  a  striking  contrast.  He  was 
pale  and  puny ;  his  eyes  gleamed  with  a  phosphorescent 
brilliancy  ;  and  his  hair  was  of  a  faded  flaxen  tint.  One 
little  circumstance  attracted  both  detectives'  attention.  If 
the  mother  was  attired  in  an  old,  thin,  faded  calico  dress, 
the  child  was  warmly  clad  in  stout  woolen  material. 

"  Madame,  you  have  doubtless  heard  of  a  dreadful  crime, 
committed  in  your  mother-in-law's  establishment,"  began 
Lecoq  in  a  soft  voice. 

"  Alas !  yes  sir,"  replied  Toinon  the  Virtuous,  quickly 
adding :  "  But  my  husband  could  not  have  been  implicated 
in  it,  since  he  is  in  prison." 

Did  not  this  objection,  forestalling  as  it  were  suspicion, 
betray  the  most  horrible  apprehensions  ? 

"  Yes,  I  am  aware  of  that,"  replied  Lecoq.  "  Polyte  was 
arrested  a  fortnight  ago " 

"Yes,  and  very  unjustly,  sir,"  replied  the  neglected  wife. 
"  He  was  led  astray  by  his  companions,  wicked,  desperate 
men.  He  is  so  weak  when  he  has  taken  a  glass  of  wine, 
that  they  can  do  whatever  they  like  with  him.  If  he  were 
only  left  to  himself,  he  would  not  harm  a  child.  You  have 
only  to  look  at  him " 

As  she  spoke,  the  virtuous  Toinon  turned  her  red  and 
swollen  eyes  to  a  miserable  photograph  hanging  against  the 
wall.  This  blotchy  smudge  pourtrayed  an  exceeding  ugly, 
dissipated-looking  young  man,  afflicted  with  a  terrible 
squint,  and  whose  repulsive  mouth  was  partially  concealed 
by  a  faint  moustache.  This  rake  of  the  barrieres  was  Polyte 
Chupin.  And  yet  despite  his  unprepossessing  aspect  there 
was  no  mistaking  the  fact  that  this  unfortunate  woman 


*54  MONSIEUR  LECOQ 

loved  him — had  always  loved  him  ;  besides,  he  was  her 
husband. 

A  moment's  silence  followed  her  indication  of  the  portrait 
— an  act  which  clearly  revealed  how  deeply  she  worshipped 
her  persecutor;  and  during  this  pause  the  attic  door 
slowly  and  softly  opened.  Not  of  itself,  however,  for 
suddenly  a  man's  head  peered  in.  The  intruder,  whoever 
he  was,  instantly  withdrew,  uttering  as  he  did  so  a  low 
exclamation.  The  door  was  swiftly  closed  again  ;  the  key — 
which  had  been  left  on  the  outside — grated  in  the  lock,  and 
the  occupants  of  the  garret  could  hear  hurried  steps  de- 
scending  the  stairs. 

Lecoq  was  sitting  with  his  back  to  the  door,  and  could 
not,  therefore,  see  the  intruder's  face.  Quickly  as  he  had 
turned,  he  had  failed  to  see  who  it  was :  and  yet  he  was 
far  from  being  surprised  at  the  incident.  Intuition 
explained  its  meaning. 

"  That  must  have  been  the  accomplice  !  "  he  cried. 

Thanks  to  his  position,  Father  Absinthe  had  seen  the 
man's  face.  "  Yes,"  said  he,  "  yes,  it  was  the  same  man 
who  made  me  drink  with  him  yesterday." 

With  a  bound,  both  detectives  threw  themselves  against 
the  door,  exhausting  their  strength  in  vain  attempts  to 
open  it.  It  resisted  all  their  efforts,  for  it  was  of  solid 
oak,  having  been  purchased  by  the  landlord  from  some 
public  building  in  process  of  demolition,  and  it  was,  more- 
over, furnished  with  a  strong  and  massive  fastening. 

"  Help  us  !  "  cried  Father  Absinthe  to  the  woman,  who 
stood  petrified  with  astonishment ;  "  give  us  a  bar,  a  piece 
of  iron,  a  nail — anything !  " 

The  younger  man  was  making  frantic  efforts  to  push 
back  the  bolt,  or  to  force  the  lock  from  the  wood.  He 
was  wild  with  rage.  At  last,  having  succeeded  in  forcing 
the  door  open,  they  dashed  out  in  pursuit  of  their  mysteri- 
ous adversary.  On  reaching  the  street,  they  eagerly  ques- 
tioned the  bystanders.  Having  described  the  man  as  best 
they  could,  they  found  two  persons  who  had  seen  him 
enter  the  house  of  Toinon  the  Virtuous,  and  a  third  who 
had  seen  him  as  he  left.  Some  children  were  playing  in 
the  middle  of  the  street  added  that  he  bad  run  off  in  the 
direction  of  the  Rue  du  Moulin-des-Pres  ac  f?st  as  his  legs 
could  carry  him.  It  was  in  this  street,  near  the  corner  of 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  135 

the  Rue  de  la  Butte-aux-Cailles,  that  Lecoq  had  left  old 
Papillon  waiting  with  the  cab. 

"  Let  us  hasten  there  ! "  proposed  Father  Absinthe  ; 
"  perhaps  Papillon  can  give  us  some  information." 

But  Lecoq  shook  his  head  despondingly.  He  would  go 
no  further.  "  It  would  be  of  no  use,"  he  said.  "  He  had 
sufficient  presence  of  mind  to  turn  the  key  in  the  lock, 
and  that  saved  him.  He  is  at  least  ten  minutes  in  ad- 
vance of  us,  and  we  should  never  overtake  him." 

Father  Absinthe  could  not  restrain  his  anger.  He 
looked  upon  this  mysterious  accomplice  who  had  so  cruelly 
duped  him  as  a  personal  enemy,  and  he  would  willingly 
have  given  a  month's  pay  to  be  able  to  lay  his  hand  on 
his  shoulder.  Lecoq  was  quite  as  angry  as  his  subordi- 
nate, and  his  vanity  was  likewise  wounded ;  he  felt,  how- 
ever, that  coolness  and  deliberation  were  necessary. 

"  Yes,"  said  he  thoughtfully,  "  he's  a  shrewd  and  daring 
fellow — a  perfect  demon.  He  doesn't  remain  idle.  If  we 
are  working,  he's  at  work  too.  No  matter  what  side  I 
turn,  I  find  him  on  the  defensive.  He  foiled  you,  papa, 
in  your  effort  to  obtain  a  clue  concerning  Gustave's  iden- 
tity ;  and  he  made  me  appear  a  fool  in  arranging  that 
little  comedy  at  the  Hotel  de  Mariembourg.  His  diligence 
has  been  wonderful.  He  has  hitherto  been  in  advance  of 
us  everywhere,  and  this  fact  explains  the  failures  that  have 
attended  all  my  efforts.  Here  we  arrive  before  him. 
But  if  he  came  here,  it  was  because  he  scented  danger. 
Hence,  we  may  hope.  Now  let  us  get  back  and  question 
Polyte's  wife." 

Alas  !  poor  Toinon  the  Virtuous,  did  not  understand  the 
affair  at  all.  She  had  remained  up  stairs,  holding  her 
child  by  the  hand,  and  leaning  over  the  baluster ;  her 
mind  in  great  perplexity,  and  her  eyes  and  ears  on  the 
alert.  As  soon  as  she  perceived  the  two  detectives 
coming  up  the  stairs  again,  she  hastened  down  to  meet 
them.  "  In  the  name  of  heaven,  what  does  this  all  mean  ? " 
she  asked.  "  Whatever  has  happened  ?  " 

But  Lecoq  was  not  the  man  to  tell  his  business  on  a 
landing,  with  inquisitive  ears  all  around  him,  and  before 
he  answered  Toinon  he  made  her  go  up  into  her  own 
garret,  and  securely  close  the  door. 

"  We  started  in  pursuit  of  a  man  who  is  implicated  in 
the  murders  at  the  Poivriere,"  he  said  ;  "  one  who  came 


156  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

here  hoping  to  find  you  alone,  who  was  frightened  at 
seeing  us." 

"  A  murderer  !  "  faltered  Toinon,  with  clasped  hands, 
"  What  could  he  want  of  me  ? " 

"  Who  knows  ?  It  is  very  probable  that  he  is  one  of 
your  husband's  friends." 

"  Oh !  sir." 

"  Why,  did  you  not  tell  me  just  now  that  Polyte  had  some 
very  undesirable  acquaintances  ?  But  don't-  be  alarmed ; 
this  does  not  compromise  him  in  the  least.  Besides,  you 
can  very  easily  clear  him  of  all  suspicion." 

"  How  ?    In  what  way  ?     Oh,  tell  me  at  once." 

"  Merely  by  answering  me  frankly,  and  by  assisting  me 
to  find  the  guilty  party.  Now,  among  your  husbands 
friends,  don't  you  know  any  who  might  be  capable  of  such 
a  deed  ?  Give  me  the  names  of  his  acquaintances." 

The  poor  woman's  hesitation  was  evident ;  undoubtedly 
she  had  been  present  at  many  sinister  cabals,  and  had 
been  threatened  with  terrible  punishment  if  she  dared  to 
disclose  the  plans  formed  by  Polyte  or  his  associates. 

"You  have  nothing  to  fear,"  said  Lecoq,  encouragingly, 
"  and  I  promise  you,  no  one  shall  ever  know  that  you  have 
told  me  a  word.  Very  probably  you  can  tell  me  nothing 
more  than  I  know  already.  I  have  heard  a  great  deal 
about  your  former  life,  and  the  brutality  with  which  Polyte 
and  his  mother  have  treated  you." 

"  My  husband  has  never  treated  me  brutally,"  said  the 
young  woman,  indignantly ;  "  besides,  that  matter  would 
only  concern  myself." 

"  And  your  mother-in-law  ?  " 

"  She  is,  perhaps,  a  trifle  quick-tempered  ;  but  in  reality, 
she  has  a  good  heart." 

"Then,  if  you  were  so  happy  at  the  widow  Chupin's 
house,  why  did  you  fly  from  it  ? " 

Toinon  the  Virtuous  turned  scarlet  to  the  very  roots  of 
her  hair.  "  I  left  for  other  reasons,"  she  replied.  "  There 
were  always  a  great  many  drunken  men  about  the  house  ; 
and,  sometimes,  when  I  was  alone,  some  of  them  tried  to 
carry  their  pleasantry  too  far.  You  may  say  that  I  have  a 
solid  fist  of  my  own,  and  that  I  am  quite  capable  of  pro- 
tecting myself.  That's  true.  But  while  I  was  away  one 
day,  some  fellows  were  wicked  enough  to  make  this  child 
drink  to  such  an  excess,  that  when  I  came  home  I  found 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  157 

him  as  stiff  and  cold  as  if  he  were  dead.  It  was  necessary 
to  fetch  a  doctor  or  else — " 

She  suddenly  paused  ;  her  eyes  dilated.  From  red  she 
turned  livid,  and  in  a  hoarse,  unnatural  voice,  she  cried  : 
"  Toto  !  wretched  child !  " 

Lecoq  looked  behind  him,  and  shuddered.  He  under- 
stood everything.  This  child — not  yet  five  years  old — 
had  stolen  up  behind  him,  and  ferreting  in  the  pockets  of 
his  over-coat,  had  rifled  them  of  their  contents. 

"Ah,  well — yes!"  exclaimed  the  unfortunate  mother, 
bursting  into  tears.  "  That's  how  it  was.  Directly  the 
child  was  out  of  my  sight,  they  used  to  take  him  into  town. 
They  took  him  into  the  crowded  streets,  and  taught  him 
to  pick  people's  pockets,  and  bring  them  everything  he 
could  lay  his  hands  on.  If  the  child  was  detected  they 
were  angry  with  him  and  beat  him  ;  and  if  he  succeeded 
they  gave  him  a  sou  to  buy  some  sweets,  and  kept  what 
he  had  taken." 

The  luckless  Toinon  hid  her  face  in  her  hands,  and 
sobbed  in  an  almost  unintelligible  voice  :  "  Ah,  I  did  not 
wish  my  little  one  to  be  a  thief." 

But  what  this  poor  creature  did  not  tell  was  that  the  man 
who  had  led  the  child  out  into  the  streets,  to  teach  him  to 
steal,  was  his  own  father,  and  her  husband — the  ruffian, 
Polyte  Chupin.  The  two  detectives  plainly  understood, 
however,  that  such  was  the  case,  and  the  father's  crime 
was  so  horrible,  and  the  woman's  grief  so  great  that,  famil- 
iar as  they  were  with  all  the  phases  of  crime,  their  very 
hearts  were  touched.  Lecoq's  main  thought,  however, 
was  to  shorten  this  painful  scene.  The  poor  mother's 
emotion  was  a  sufficient  guarantee  of  her  sincerity. 

"  Listen,"  said  he,  with  affected  harshness :  "  Two 
questions  only,  and  then  I  will  leave  you.  Was  there  a 
man  named  Gustave  among  the  frequenters  of  the 
Poivriere  ? " 

"  No,  sir,  I'm  quite  sure  there  wasn't." 

"  Very  well.  But  Lacheneur — you  must  know  Lache- 
neur !  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  know  him." 

The  young  police-agent  could  not  repress  an  exclamation 
of  delight.  "  At  last,"  thought  he,  "  I  have  a  clue  that 
may  lead  me  to  the  truth.  What  kind  of  man  is  he  ?  "  he 
asked  with  intense  anxiety. 


1 58  MONSIE  UR  LECOQ. 

11  Oh !  he  is  not  at  all  like  the  other  men  who  come  to 
drink  at  my  mother-in-law's  shop.  I  have  only  seen  him 
once  ,  but  I  remember  him  perfectly.  It  was  on  a  Sunday- 
He  was  in  a  cab.  He  stopped  at  the  corner  of  the  waste 
ground  and  spoke  to  Polyte.  When  he  went  away,  my 
husband  said  to  me  : '  Do  you  see  that  old  man  there  ?  he 
will  make  all  our  fortunes.  I  thought  him  a  very  respecta- 
ble-looking gentleman " 

"  That's  enough,"  interrupted  Lecoq.  "  Now  it  is 
necessary  for  you  to  tell  the  investigating  magistrate  all 
you  know  about  him.  I  have  a  cab  downstairs.  Take 
your  child  with  you,  if  you  like  ;  but  make  haste ;  come, 
come  quickly  ! " 

XVI. 

M.  SEGMTJLLER  was  one  of  those  magistrates  whose  pro- 
fession is  their  only  love,  and  who  devote  to  its  duties  all 
the  energy,  intelligence  and  sagacity  they  possess.  As  an 
investigator,  he  displayed,  in  his  constant  searches  after 
truth,  the  same  tenacity  and  zeal  that  distinguishes  a 
conscientious  physician  struggling  against  some  unknown 
disease  .  the  same  enthusiasm  that  is  shown  by  the  artist, 
enamoured  of  the  beautiful,  who  seeks  to  realise  the  ideal 
of  art.  Hence,  it  is  easy  to  understand  how  greatly  this 
mysterious  case  attracted  and  interested  him.  The  mag- 
nitude of  the  crime,  the  peculiar  circumstances  attending  it, 
the  mystery  that  enshrouded  the  identity  of  both  the  victims 
and  the  murderer,  the  strange  attitude  the  latter  had  assumed, 
everything  combined  to  make  a  profound  impression  on  his 
mind.  Even  the  romantic  element  was  not  lacking  in  this 
strange  case ;  being  represented  by  the  two  women  who 
had  disappeared. 

The  extreme  uncertainty  of  the  result  was  another 
attraction  for  M.  Segmuller's  investigating  mind.  Given 
the  magnitude  of  the  difficulties  that  were  to  be  overcome, 
he  rightly  considered  that  if  his  efforts  proved  successful, 
he  would  have  achieved  a  really  wonderful  victory.  And, 
assisted  by  such  a  man  as  Lecoq,  who  had  a  positive  genius 
for  his  calling,  and  in  whom  he  recognised  a  most  valuable 
auxiliary,  he  really  felt  confident  of  ultimate  success. 

Even  on  returning  home  after  the  fatiguing  labours  of 
the  day  he  did  not  think  of  freeing  himself  '  om  the  burden 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  159 

of  responsibility  in  relation  to  the  business  he  rhad  on 
hand,  or  of  driving  away  care  until  the  morrow.  He  dined 
in  haste,  and  as  soon  as  he  had  swallowed  his  coffee  began 
to  study  the  case  with  renewed  ardour.  He  had  brought 
from  his  office  a  copy  of  the  prisoner's  narrative,  which  he 
attentively  perused,  not  once  or  twice,  but  several  times 
seeking  for  some  weak  point  that  might  be  attacked  with  a 
probability  of  success.  He  analysed  every  answer,  and 
weighed  one  expression  after  another,  striving  as  he  did 
so,  to  find  some  flaw  through  which  he  might  slip  a  question 
calculated  to  shatter  the  structure  of  defence.  He  worked 
thus,  far  into  the  night,  and  yet  he  was  on  his  legs  again  at 
an  early  hour  in  the  morning.  By  eight  o'clock  he  was 
not  merely  dressed  and  shaved,  he  had  not  merely  taken  his 
matutinal  chocolate  and  arranged  his  papers,  but  he  was 
actually  on  his  way  to  the  Palais  de  Justice.  He  had  quite 
forgotten  that  his  own  impatience  was  not  shared  by  others. 

In  point  of  fact,  the  Palais  de  Justice  was  scarcely 
awake  when  he  arrived  there.  The  doors  had  barely 
opened.  The  attendants  were  busy  sweeping  and  dusting ; 
or  changing  their  ordinary  garments  for  their  official  cos- 
tumes. Some  of  them  standing  at  the  windows  of  the 
long  dressing-room  were  shaking  and  brushing  the  judges' 
and  advocates'  gowns ;  while  in  the  great  hall  several  clerks 
stood  in  a  group,  chaffing  each  other  whilst  waiting  for  the 
arrival  of  the  head  registrar  and  the  opening  of  the  investi- 
gation offices. 

M.  Segmuller  thought  that  he  had  better  begin  by 
consulting  the  public  prosecutor,  but  he  discovered  that 
this  functionary  had  not  yet  arrived.  Angry  and  impatient, 
he  proceeded  to  his  own  office  ;  and  with  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  clock,  growled  at  the  slowness  of  the  minute  hand. 
Just  after  nine  o'clock,  Goguet,  the  smiling  clerk,  put  in 
an  appearance  and  speedily  learnt  the  kind  of  humour  his 
master  was  in. 

"Ah,  you've  come  at  last,"  gruffly  ejaculated  M.  Segmuller, 
momentarily  oblivious  of  the  fact  that  he  himself  scarcely 
ever  arrived  before  ten,  and  that  a  quarter-past  nine  was 
certainly  early  for  his  clerk. 

Goguet's  curiocity  had  indeed  prompted  him  to  hurry  to 
the  Palais;  still,  although  well  aware  that  he  did  not 
deserve  a  reprimand,  he  endeavoured  to  mumble  an  excuse 
— an  excuse  cut  short  by  M.  Segmuller  in  such  unusually 


160  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

harsh  tones  that  for  once  in  a  way  Goguet's  habitual  smile 
faded  from  his  face. 

"  It's  evident,"  thought  he,  "  that  the  wind's  blowing 
from  a  bad  quarter  this  morning,"  with  which  reflection  he 
philosophically  put  on  his  black  sleeves  and  going  to  his 
table  pretended  to  be  absorbed  in  the  task  of  mending  his 
pens  and  preparing  his  paper. 

In  the  meanwhile,  M.  Segmuller  who  was  usually  calm 
ness  personified,  and  dignity  par  excellence,  paced  restlessly 
to  and  fro.  At  times  he  would  sit  down  and  then  suddenly 
spring  to  his  feet  again,  gesticulating  impatiently  as  he  did 
so.  Indeed,  he  seemed  unable  to  remain  quiet  for  a 
moment. 

"  The  prosecution  is  evidently  making  no  headway," 
thought  the  clerk.  "  May's  prospects  are  encouraging." 
Owing  to  the  magistrate's  harsh  reception  the  idea  delighted 
him ;  and,  indeed,  letting  his  rancour  have  the  upper 
hand,  Goguet  actually  offered  up  a  mental  prayer  that  the 
prisoner  might  get  the  better  of  the  fight. 

From  half-past  nine  till  ten  o'clock  M.  Segmuller  rang 
for  his  messenger  at  least  five  times,  and  each  time  he 
asked  him  the  same  questions.  "  Are  you  sure  that  M. 
Lecoq  has  not  been  here  this  morning  ?  Inquire  !  If  he 
has  not  been-  here  he  must  certainly  have  sent  someone,  or 
else  have  written  to  me." 

Each  time  the  astonished  door-keeper  replied :  "  No 
one  has  been  here,  and  there  is  no  letter  for  you." 

Five  identical  negative  answers  to  the  same  inquiries 
only  increased  the  magistrate's  wrath  and  impatience. 
"  It  is  inconceivable  ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  Here  I  am  upon 
coals  of  fire,  and  that  man  dares  to  keep  me  waiting.  Where 
can  he  be  ?  " 

At  last  he  ordered  a  messenger  to  go  and  see  if  he 
could  not  find  Lecoq  somewhere  in  the  neighbourhood  ;  per- 
haps in  some  restaurant  or  cafe.  "  At  all  events,  he  must 
be  found  and  brought  back  immediately,"  said  he. 

When  the  man  had  started,  M.  Segmuller  began  to  re  • 
cover  his  composure.  "  We  must  not  lose  valuable  time,' 
he  said  to  his  clerk.  "  I  was  to  examine  the  widow 
Chupin's  son.  I  had  better  do  so  now.  Go  and  tell  them 
to  bring  him  to  me.  Lecoq  left  the  order  at  the  prison." 

In  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  Polyte  entered  the  room. 
From  head  to  foot,  from  his  lofty  silk  cap  to  his  gaudy 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  161 

coloured  carpet  slippers,  he  was  indeed  the  original  of  the 
portrait  upon  which  poor  Toinon  the  Virtuous  had  lavished 
such  loving  glances.  And  yet  the  photograph  was  flatter- 
ing. The  lens  had  failed  to  convey  the  expression  of  low 
cunning  that  distinguished  the  man's  features,  the  impu- 
dence of  his  leering  smile,  and  the  mingled  cowardice  and 
ferocity  of  his  eyes,  which  never  looked  another  person  in 
the  face.  Nor  could  the  portrait  depict  the  unwholesome, 
livid  pallor  of  his  skin,  the  restless  blinking  of  his  eyelids, 
and  the  constant  movement  of  his  thin  lips  as  he  drew  them 
tightly  over  his  short,  sharp  teeth.  There  was  no  mis- 
taking his  nature :  one  glance  and  he  was  estimated  at  his 
worth. 

When  he  had  answered  the  preliminary  questions,  telling 
the  magistrate  that  he  was  thirty  years  of  age,  and  that  he 
had  been  born  in  Paris,  he  assumed  a  pretentious  attitude 
and  waited  to  see  what  else  was  coming. 

But  before  proceeding  with  the  real  matter  in  hand,  M. 
Segmuller  wished  to  relieve  the  complacent  scoundrel  of 
some  of  his  insulting  assurance.  Accordingly,  he  re- 
minded Polyte,  in  forcible  terms,  that  his  sentence  in  the 
affair  in  which  he  was  implicated  would  depend  very  much 
upon  his  behaviour  and  answers  during  the  present  exam- 
ination. 

Polyte  listened  with  a  nonchalant  and  even  ironical  air. 
In  fact,  this  indirect  threat  scarcely  touched  him.  Having 
previously  made  inquiries  he  had  ascertained  that  he 
could  not  be  condemned  to  more  than  six  months  impris- 
onment for  the  offence  for  which  he  had  been  arrested  ; 
*.nd  what  did  a  month  more  or  less  matter  to  him  ? 

The  magistrate  who  read  this  thought  in  Polyte's  eyes, 
cut  his  preamble  short.  "  Justice,"  said  he,  "  now  requires 
some  information  from  you  concerning  the  frequenters  of 
your  mother's  establishment." 

"There  are  a  great  many  of  them,  sir,"  answered  Polyte 
in  a  harsh  voice. 

"  Do  you  know  one  of  them  named  Gustave  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

To  insist  would  probably  awaken  suspicion  in  Polyte's 
mind ;  accordingly,  M.  Segmuller  continued  :  "  You  must, 
however,  remember  Lacheneur  ? " 

"Lacheneur?    No,  this  is  the  first  time  I've  heard  that 
name." 
it 


i6a  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

"  Take  care.  The  police  have  means  of  finding  out  a 
great  many  things. 

The  scapegrace  did  not  flinch.  "  I  am  telling  the  truth, 
sir,"  he  retorted.  "  What  interest  could  I  possibly  have 
in  deceiving  you  ? " 

Scarcely  had  he  finished  speaking  than  the  door  sud- 
denly opened  and  Toinon  the  Virtuous  entered  the  room, 
carrying  her  child  in  her  arms.  On  perceiving  her  hus- 
band, she  uttered  a  joyful  exclamation,  and  sprang  to- 
wards him.  But  Polyte,  stepping  back,  gave  her  such  a 
threatening  glance  that  she  remained  rooted  to  the  spot. 

"  It  must  be  an  enemy  who  pretends  that  I  know  any- 
one named  Lacheneur !  "  cried  the  barriere  bully.  "  I 
should  like  to  kill  the  person  who  uttered  such  a  falsehood. 
Yes,  kill  him  ;  I  will  never  forgive  it." 

The  messenger  whom  M.  Segmuller  had  instructed  to  go 
in  search  of  Lecoq  was  not  at  all  displeased  with  the  er- 
rand ;  for  it  enabled  him  to  leave  his  post  and  take  a 
pleasant  little  stroll  through  the  neighbourhood.  He  first  of 
all  proceeded  to  the  Prefecture  of  Police,  going  the  long- 
est way  round  as  a  matter  of  course,  but,  on  reaching  his 
destination,  he  could  find  no  one  who  had  seen  the  young 
detective. 

Accordingly,  M.  Segmuller's  envoy  retraced  his  steps, 
and  leisurely  sauntered  through  the  restaurants,  cafes,  and 
wine-shops  installed  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Palais  de  Justice, 
and  dependent  on  the  customers  it  brought  them.  Being 
of  a  conscientious  turn  of  mind  he  entered  each  establish- 
ment in  succession  and  meeting  now  and  again  various  ac- 
quaintances, he  felt  compelled  to  proffer  and  accept  numer- 
ous glasses  of  the  favorite  morning  beverage — white  wine. 
Turn  which  way  he  would,  however,  loiter  as  long  as  he 
might,  there  were  still  no  signs  of  Lecoq.  He  was  return- 
ing in  haste,  a  trifle  uneasy  on  account  of  the  length  of 
his  absence,  when  he  perceived  a  cab  pull  up  in  front  of 
the  Palais  gateway.  A  second  glance,  and  oh,  great  good 
fortune,  he  saw  Lecoq,  Father  Absinthe,  and  the  virtuous 
Toinon  alight  from  this  very  vehicle.  His  peace  of  mind 
at  once  returned ;  and  it  was  in  a  very  important,  and 
somewhat  husky  tone  that  he  delivered  the  order  for 
Lecoq  to  follow  him  without  a  minute's  delay.  "  M.  Seg- 
muller has  asked  for  you  a  number  of  times,"  said  he. 
"  He  has  been  extremely  impatient,  and  he  is  in  a  very 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  163 

bad  humour  ,  so  you  may  expect  to  have  your  head  snapped 
off  in  the  most  expeditious  manner." 

Lecoq  smiled  as  he  went  up  the  stairs.  Was  he  not 
bringing  with  him  the  most  potent  of  justifications  ?  He 
thought  of  the  agreeable  surprise  he  had  in  store  for  the 
magistrate,  and  fancied  he  could  picture  the  sudden  bright- 
ening of  that  functionary's  gloomy  face. 

And  yet,  fate  so  willed  it  that  the  door-keeper's  message 
and  his  urgent  appeal  that  Lecoq  should  not  loiter  on  the 
way,  produced  the  most  unfortunate  results.  Believing 
that  M.  Segmuller  was  anxiously  waiting  for  him  Lecoq 
saw  nothing  wrong  in  opening  the  door  of  the  magistrate's 
room  without  previously  knocking ;  and  being  anxious  to 
justify  his  absence,  he  yielded,  moreover,  to  the  impulse 
that  led  him  to  push  forward  the  poor  woman  whose  testi- 
mony might  prove  so  decisive.  When  he  saw,  however, 
that  the  magistrate  was  not  alone,  and  when  he  recog- 
nized Polyte  Chupin — the  original  of  the  photograph — in 
the  man  M.  Segmuller  was  examining,  his  stupefaction  be- 
carne  intense.  He  instantly  perceived  his  mistake  and 
understood  its  consequences. 

There  was  only  one  thing  to  be  done :  He  must  pre- 
vent any  exchange  of  words  between  the  two.  Accord- 
ingly, springing  towards  Toinon  and  seizing  her  roughly 
by  the  arm,  he  ordered  her  to  leave  the  room  at  once. 
But  the  poor  creature  was  quite  overcome,  and  trembled 
like  a  leaf.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her  unworthy  hus- 
band, and  the  happiness  she  felt  at  seeing  him  again  shone 
plainly  in  her  anxious  gaze.  Just  for  one  second ;  and 
then  she  caught  his  withering  glance  and  heard  his  words 
of  menace.  Terror-stricken  she  staggered  back  and  then 
Lecoq  seized  her  around  the  waist  and  lifting  her  with  his 
strong  arms  carried  her  out  into  the  passage.  The  whole 
scene  had  been  so  brief,  that  M.  Segmuller  was  still  form- 
ing the  order  for  Toinon  to  be  removed  from  the  room, 
when  he  found  the  door  closed  again,  and  himself  and 
Goguet  alone  with  Polyte. 

"  Ah,  ah  ! "  thought  the  smiling  clerk,  in  a  flutter  of  de- 
light, "  this  is  something  new."  But  as  these  little  diver- 
sions never  made  him  forget  his  duties,  he  leant  towards 
the  magistrate  and  asked.  "  Shall  I  take  down  the  last 
words  the  witness  uttered  ?  " 


164  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  M.  Segmuller,  "  and  word  for  word, 
if  you  please." 

He  paused ;  the  door  opened  again,  this  time  to  admit 
the  magistrate's  messenger,  who  timidly,  and  with  a  rather 
guilty  air,  handed  his  master  a  note,  and  then  withdrew. 
This  note,  scribbled  in  pencil  by  Lecoq  on  a  leaf  torn  from 
his  memorandum  book,  gave  the  magistrate  the  name  of 
the  woman  who  had  just  entered  his  room,  and  recapitu- 
lated briefly  but  clearly  the  information  obtained  in  the 
Rue  de  la  Butte-aux-Cailles. 

"  That  young  fellow  thinks  of  everything !  "  murmured 
M.  Segmuller.  The  meaning  of  the  scene  that  had  just 
occurred,  was  now  explained  to  him.  He  understood 
everything. 

He  bitterly  regretted  this  unfortunate  meeting;  at  the 
same  time,  casting  the  blame  on  his  own  impatience,  and 
lack  of  caution,  which,  as  soon  as  the  messenger  had 
started  in  search  of  Lecoq,  had  induced  him  to  summon 
Polyte  Chupin.  Although  he  could  not  conceal  from  him- 
self the  enormous  influence  this  seemingly  trivial  incident 
might  have,  still  he  would  not  allow  himself  to  be  cast 
down,  but  prepared  to  resume  his  examination  of  Polyte 
Chupin  in  hopes  of  yet  obtaining  the  information  he  de- 
sired. 

"  Let  us  proceed,"  he  said  to  Polyte,  who  had  not  moved 
since  his  wife  had  been  taken  from  the  room,  being  to  all 
appearance  sublimely  indifferent  to  everything  passing 
around  him.  To  the  magistrate's  proposal  he  carelessly 
nodded  assent. 

"  Was  that  your  wife  who  came  in  just  now  ?  "  asked  M. 
Segmuller. 

"  Yes." 

"jShe  wishedfto  embrace  you,  and  you  repulsed  her." 

"  I  didn't  repulse  her." 

"  You  kept  her  at  a  distance  at  all  events.  If  you  had  a 
spark  of  affection  in  your  nature,  you  would  at  least,  have 
looked  at  your  child,  which  she  held  out  to  you.  Why  did 
you  behave  in  that  manner  ? " 

"  It  wasn't  the  time  for  sentiment." 

"  You  are  not  telling  the  truth.  You  simply  desired  to 
attract  her  attention  to  influence  her  evidence." 

"  I — I  influence  her  evidence  !  I  don't  understand 
you." 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  165 

"  But  for  that  supposition,  your  words  would  have  been 
meaningless  ? " 

"  What  words  ? " 

The  magistrate  turned  to  his  clerk  :  "  Goguet,"  said  he, 
"  read  the  last  remark  you  took  down." 

In  a  monotonous  voice,  the  smiling  clerk  repeated :  "  I 
should  like  to  kill  the  person  who  dared  to  say  that  I  knew 
Lacheneur." 

"  Well  then  ! "  insisted  M.  Segmuller,  "  what  did  you 
mean  by  that  ? " 

"  It's  very  easy  to  understand,  sir." 

M.  Segmuller  rose.  "  Don't  prevaricate  any  longer," 
he  said.  "  You  certainly  ordered  your  wife  not  to  say  any- 
thing about  Lacheneur.  That's  evident,  why  did  you  do 
so  ?  What  are  you  afraid  of  her  telling  us  ?  Do  you  sup- 
pose the  police  are  ignorant  of  your  acquaintance  with 
Lacheneur — of  your  conversation  with  him  when  he  cainc 
in  a  cab  to  the  corner  of  the  waste-ground  near  yor.r 
mother's  wine-shop ;  and  of  the  hopes  of  fortune  you  based 
upon  his  promises  ?  Be  guided  by  me ;  confess  everything 
while  there  is  yet  time ;  and  abandon  the  present  course 
which  may  lead  you  into  serious  danger.  One  may  be  an 
accomplice  in  more  ways  than  one." 

As  these  words  fell  on  Polyte's  ear,  it  was  evident  his 
impudence  and  indifference  had  received  a  severe  shock. 
He  seemed  confounded,  and  hung  his  head  as  if  thoroughly 
abashed.  Still,  he  preserved  an  obstinate  silence ;  and 
the  magistrate  finding  that  this  last  thrust  had  failed  to 
produce  any  effect,  gave  up  the  fight  in  despair.  He  rang 
the  bell,  and  ordered  the  guard  to  conduct  the  witness 
back  to  prison,  and  to  take  every  precaution  to  prevent 
him  seeing  his  wife  again. 

When  Polyte  had  departed,  Lecoq  re-entered  the  room. 
:'  Ah,  sir,"  said  he,  despondently,  "  to  think  that  I  didn't 
draw  out  of  this  woman  everything  she  knew,  when  I  might 
have  done  so  easily.  But  I  thought  you  would  be  waiting 
for  me,  and  made  haste  to  bring  her  here.  I  thought  I 
was  acting  for  the  best — " 

"  Never  mind,  the  misfortune  can  be  repaired." 
"  No,  sir,  no.     Since  she  has  seen  her  husband,  it  is 
quite  impossible  to  get  her  to  speak.     She  loves  that  ras- 
cal intensely,  and  he  has  a  wonderful  influence  over  her. 
You  heard  what  he  said.     He  threatened  her  with  death  if 


164  MONSIEUR  L&COQ. 

she  breathed  a  word  about  Lacheneur,  and  she  is  so  tern 
fied  that  there  is  no  hope  of  making  her  speak." 

Lecoq's  apprehension  was  based  on  fact,  as  M.  Segmul 
ler  himself  perceived,  the  instant  Toinon  the  Virtuous 
again  set  foot  in  his  office.  The  poor  creature  seemed 
nearly  heart-broken,  and  it  was  evident  she  would  have 
given  her  life  to  retract  the  words  that  had  escaped  her 
when  first  questioned  by  Lecoq.  Polyte's  threat  had 
aroused  the  most  sinister  apprehensions  in  her  mind. 
Not  understanding  his  connection  with  the  affair,  3he 
asked  herseli  if  her  testimony  might  not  prove  Ms  ^ath- 
warrant.  Accordingly,  she  answered  all  M.  Segmuller's 
questions  with  "  no  "  or  "  I  don't  know ; "  and  retracted 
everything  she  had  previously  stated  to  Lecoq.  She 
swore  that  she  had  been  misunderstood,  that  her  words 
had  been  misconstrued ;  and  vowed  on  her  mother's  mem- 
ory, that  she  had  never  heard  the  name  of  Lacheneur  be- 
fore. At  last,  see  burst  into  wild,  despairing  sobs,  pressed 
her  frightened  child  against  her  breast. 

What  could  be  done  to  overcome  this  foolish  obstinacy, 
as  blind  and  unreasoning  as  a  "brute's  ?  M.  Segmuller  hes- 
itated. "  You  may  retire,  my  good  woman,"  said  he  kindly, 
after  a  moment's  pause,  "but  remember  that  your  strange 
silence  injures  your  husband  far  more  than  anything  you 
could  say." 

She  left  the  room — or  rather  she  rushed  wildly  from  it 
as  though  only  too  eager  to  escape — and  the  magistrate 
and  the  detective  exchanged  glances  of  dismay  and  con- 
sternation. 

"  I  said  so  before,"  thought  Goguet,  "  the  prisonerlcnows 
what  he's  about.  I  would  be  willing  to  bet  a  hundred  to 
one  in  his  favour." 

A  French  investigating  magistrate  is  possessed  of  almost 
unlimited  powers.  No  one  can  hamper  him,  no  one  can 
give  him  orders.  The  entire  police  force  is  at  his  disposal. 
One  word  from  him  and  twenty  agents,  or  a  hundred  if 
need  be,  search  Paris,  ransack  France,  or  explore  Europe. 
If  there  be  anyone  whom  he  believes  able  to  throw  light 
upon  an  obscure  point,  he  simply  sends  an  order  to  that 
person  to  appear  before  him,  and  the  man  must  come  even 
;f  he  lives  a  hundred  leagues  away.  Such  is  the  magis- 
"rate,  guch  are  his  powers.  On  the  other  hand,  the  pris- 
mer  charged  with  a  crime,  but  as  yet  unconvicted,  is 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  167 

confined,  unless  his  offence  be  of  a  trivial  description — in 
what  is  called  a  "  secret  cell."  He  is,  so  to  say,  cut  off 
from  the  number  of  the  living.  He  knows  nothing  of 
what  may  be  going  on  in  the  world  outside.  He  cannot 
tell  what  witnesses  may  have  been  called,  or  what  they 
may  have  said— and  in  his  uncertainty  he  asks  himself 
again  and  again  how  far  the  prosecution  has  been  able  to 
establish  the  charges  against  him.  Such  is  the  prisoner's 
position,  and  yet  despite  the  fact  that  the  two  adversaries 
are  so  unequally  armed,  the  man  in  the  secret  cell  not  un- 
frequently  wins  the  victory.  If  he  is  sure  that  he  has  left 
behind  him  no  proof  of  his  having  committed  the  crime ; 
if  he  has  no  guilty  antecedents  to  be  afraid  of,  he  can — 
impregnable  in  a  defence  of  absolute  denial — brave  all 
the  attacks  of  justice. 

Such  was,  at  this  moment,  the  situation  of  May,  the 
mysterious  murderer ,  as  both  M.  Segmuller  and  Lecoq 
were  forced  to  admit,  with  mingled  grief  and  anger. 
They  had  hoped  to  arrive  at  a  solution  of  the  problem  by 
examining  Polyte  Chupin  and  his  wife,  and  they  had  been 
disappointed ;  for  the  prisoner's  identity  remained  as 
problematical  as  ever. 

"  And  yet,0  exclaimed  the  magistrate  impatiently, 
"these  people  know  something  about  this  matter,  and 
if  they  would  only  speak — " 

"  But  they  won't." 

"  What  motive  is  it  that  keeps  them  silent  ?  This  is 
what  we  must  discover.  Who  will  tell  us  the  price  that 
has  been  promised  Polyte  Chupin  for  his  silence  ?  What 
recompense  can  he  count  upon  ?  It  must  be  a  great  one, 
for  he  is  braving  real  danger  1 " 

Lecoq  did  not  immediately  reply  to  the  magistrate's 
successive  queries,  but  it  was  easy  to  see  from  his  knit 
brows  that  his  mind  was  hard  at  work.  "  You  ask  me, 
sir,"  he  eventually  remarked,  "what  reward  has  been 
promised  Chupin.  I  ask  on  my  part  who  can  have  prom- 
ised him  this  reward  ?  " 

"  Who  has  promised  it  ?  Why,  plainly  the  accomplice 
who  has  beaten  us  on  every  point." 

"Yes,"  rejoined  Lecoq,  "I  suppose  it  must  have  been 
him.  It  certainly  looks  like  his  handiwork — now,  what 
artifice  can  he  have  used  ?  We  know  how  he  managed 
to  have  an  interview  with  the  Widow  Chupin,  but  how 


168  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

has  he  succeeded  in  getting  at  Polyte,  who  is  in  prison, 
closely  watched  ? " 

The  young  detective's  insinuation,  vague  as  it  was,  did 
not  escape  M.  Segmuller.  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked 
the  latter,  with  an  air  of  mingled  surprise  and  indignation. 
"You  can't  suppose  that  one  of  the  keepers  has  been 
bribed?" 

Lecoq  shook  his  head,  in  a  somewhat  equivocal  manner. 
"  I  mean  nothing,"  he  replied ,  "  I  don't  suspect  any  one. 
All  I  want  is  information.  Has  Chupin  been  forewarned 
or  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  of  course  he  has." 

"  Then,  if  that  point  is  admitted  it  can  only  be  ex- 
plained in  two  ways.  Either  there  are  informers  in  the 
prison,  or  else  Chupin  has  been  allowed  to  see  some 
visitor." 

These  suppositions  evidently  worried  M.  Segmuller; 
who  for  a  moment  seemed  to  hesitate  between  the  two 
opinions;  then,  suddenly  making  up  his  mind,  he  rose 
from  his  chair,  took  up  his  hat,  and  said  :  "  This  matter 
must  be  cleared  up.  Come  with  me,  Monsieur  Lecoq." 

A  couple  of  minutes  later,  the  magistrate  and  the  de- 
tective had  reached  the  Depot,  which  is  connected  with 
the  Palais  de  Justice  by  a  narrow  passage,  especially  re- 
served for  official  use.  The  prisoners'  morning  rations  had 
just  been  served  to  them,  and  the  governor  was  walking  up 
and  down  the  court-yard,  in  the  company  of  Inspector 
Gevrol.  As  soon  as  he  perceived  M.  Segmuller  he 
hastened  towards  him  and  asked  if  he  had  not  come 
about  the  prisoner  May. 

As  the  magistrate  nodded  assent,  the  governor  at  once 
added,  "  Well  I  was  only  just  now  telling  Inspector 
Gevrol  that  I  was  very  well  satisfied  with  May's  behavior. 
It  has  not  only  been  quite  unnecessary  to  place  him  in 
the  strait-waistcoat  again,  but  his  mood  seems  to  have 
changed  entirely.  He  eats  with  a  good  appetite ;  he  is 
as  gay  as  a  lark,  and  he  constantly  laughs  and  jests  with 
his  keeper." 

Gevrol  had  pricked  up  his  ears  when  he  heard  himself 
named  by  the  governor,  and  considering  this  mention  to 
be  a  sufficient  introduction,  he  thought  there  would  be 
no  impropriety  in  his  listening  to  the  conversation.  Ac- 
cordingly, he  approached  the  others,  and  noted  witl 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  169 

some  satisfaction  the  troubled  glances  which  Lecoq  and 
the  magistrate  exchanged. 

M.  Segmuller  was  plainly  perplexed.  May's  gay  man- 
ner to  which  the  governor  of  the  Depot  alluded  might 
perhaps  have  been  assumed  for  the  purpose  of  sustaining 
his  character  as  a  jester  and  buffoon,  it  might  be  due  to 
a  certainty  of  defeating  the  judicial  enquiry,  or,  who 
knows  ?  the  prisoner  had  perhaps  received  some  favour- 
able news  from  outside. 

With  Lecoq's  last  words  still  ringing  in  his  ears,  it  is 
no  wonder  that  the  magistrate  should  have  dwelt  on  this 
last  supposition.  "  Are  you  quite  sure,"  he  asked,  "  that 
no  communication  from  outside  can  reach  the  inmates 
of  the  secret  cells  ?  " 

The  governor  of  the  Depot  was  cut  to  the  quick,  by 
M.  Segmuller's  implied  doubt  What !  were  his  subordi- 
nates suspected  ?  Was  his  own  professional  honesty 
impugned  ?  He  could  not  help  lifting  his  hands  to 
heaven  in  mute  protest  against  such  an  unjust  charge. 

"  Am  I  sure  ?  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Then  you  can  never 
have  visited  the  secret  cells.  You  have  no  idea,  then, 
of  their  situation ;  you  are  unacquainted  with  the  triple 
bolts,  that  secure  the  doors ,  the  grating  that  shuts  out 
the  sunlight,  to  say  nothing  of  the  guard  who  walks 
beneath  the  windows  day  and  night.  Why,  a  bird 
couldn't  even  reach  the  prisoners  in  those  cells." 

Such  a  description  was  bound  to  re-assure  the  most 
sceptical  mind,  and  M.  Segmuller  breathed  again  :  "  Now 
that  I  am  easy  on  that  score,"  said  he,  "  I  should  like 
some  information  about  another  prisoner — a  fellow  named 
Chupin,  who  isn't  in  the  secret  cells.  I  want  to  know  if 
any  visitor  came  for  him  yesterday  ?  " 

"  I  must  speak  to  the  registrar,"  replied  the  governor, 
"  before  I  can  answer  you  with  certainty.  WTait  a 
moment  though,  here  comes  a  man  who  can  perhaps  tell 
us.  He  is  usually  on  guard  at  the  entrance.  Here, 
Ferraud,  this  way  ! " 

The  man  to  whom  the  governor  called  hastened  to 
obey  the  summons. 

"  Do  you  know  whether  anyone  asked  to  ksee  the 
prisoner  Chupin  yesterday  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,  I  went  to  fetch  Chupin  to  the  parlout 
mvself." 


#o  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

"  And  who  was  his  visitor  ? "  eagerly  asked  Lecoq, 
"  wasn't  he  a  tall  man  ;  very  red  in  the  face — " 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,  the  visitor  was  a  lady — his  aunt,  at 
least  so  Chupin  told  me." 

Neither  M.  Segmuller  nor  Lecoq  could  restrain  an  ex- 
clamation of  surprise.  "  What  was  she  like  ?  "  they  both 
asked  at  the  same  time. 

"  She  was  short,"  replied  the  attendant,  "  with  a  very 
fair  complexion  and  light  hair  :  she  seemed  to  be  a  very 
respectable  woman." 

"  It  must  have  been  one  of  the  female  ^fugitives  who  es- 
caped from  the  Widow  Chupin's  hovel,*'  exclaimed  Le- 
coq. 

Gevrol,  hitherto  an  attentive  listener,  burst  into  a  loud 
laugh.  "  Still  that  Russian  princess,"  said  he. 

Neither  the  magistrate  nor  the  young  detective  relished 
this  unreasonable  jest.  "  You  forget  yourself,  sir,"  said  M. 
Segmuller  severely.  "  You  forget  that  the  sneers  you  ad- 
dress to  your  comrade  also  apply  to  me  ! " 

The  General  saw  that  he  had  gone  too  far ;  and  while 
glancing  hatefully  at  Lecoq,  he  mumbled  an  apology  to 
the  magistrate.  The  latter  did  not  apparently  hear  him, 
for,  bowing  to  the  governor,  he  motioned  Lecoq  to  follow 
him  away. 

"  Run  to  the  Prefecture  of  Police,"  he  said  as  soon  as 
they  were  out  of  hearing,  "  and  ascertain  how  and  under 
what  pretext  this  woman  obtained  permission  to  see  Polyte 
Chupin." 

XVII. 

ON  his  way  back  to  his  office,  M.  Segmuller  mentally  re- 
viewed the  position  of  affairs  ;  and  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  as  he  had  failed  to  take  the  citadel  of  defence  by 
storm,  he  must  resign  himself  to  a  regular  protracted  siege. 
He  was  exceedingly  annoyed  at  the  constant  failures  that 
had  attended  all  Lecoq's  efforts  :  for  time  was  on  the  wing, 
and  he  knew  that  in  a  criminal  investigation  delay  only  in- 
creases the  uncertainty  of  success.  The  more  promptly  a 
crime  is  followed  by  judicial  action  the  easier  it  is  to  find 
the  culprit,  and  prove  his  guilt.  The  longer  investigation 
ie  delayed  the  more  difficult  it  becomes  to  adduce  con- 
clusive evidence 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  \j\ 

In  the  present  instance  there  were  various  matters  that 
M.  Segmuller  might  at  once  attend  to.  With  which  should 
he  begin  ?  Ought  he  not  to  confront  May,  the  Widow 
Chupin,  and  Polyte  with  the  bodies  of  their  victims  ?  Such 
horrible  meetings  have  at  times  the  most  momentous  re- 
sults, and  more  than  one  murderer,  when  unsuspectedly 
brought  into  the  presence  of  his  victim's  lifeless  corpse 
has  changed  colour  and  lost  his  assurance. 

Then  there  were  other  witnesses,  whom  M.  Segmuller 
might  examine.  Papillon,  the  cab  driver ;  the  concierge 
of  the  house  in  the  Rue  de  Bourgogne — where  the  two 
women  flying  from  the  Poivriere  had  momentarily  taken 
refuge  ;  as  well  as  a  certain  Madame  Milner,  landlady  of 
the  Hotel  de  Mariembourg.  In  addition,  it  would  also  be 
advisable  to  summon,  with  the  least  possible  delay,  some 
of  the  people  residing  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Poivriere  ; 
together  with  some  of  Polyte's  habitual  companions,  and 
the  landlord  of  the  Rainbow,  where  the  victims  and  the 
murderer  had  apparently  passed  the  evening  of  the  crime. 
Of  course,  there  was  no  reason  to  expect  any  great  revela- 
tions from  any  of  these  witnesses,  still  they  might  know 
something,  they  might  have  an  opinion  to  express,  and  in 
the  present  darkness  one  single  ray  of  light,  however  faint 
might  mean  salvation. 

Obeying  the  magistrate's  orders,  Goguet,  the  smiling 
clerk,  had  just  finished  drawing  up  at  least  a  dozen  sum- 
monses, when  Lecoq  returned  from  the  Prefecture.  M. 
Segmuiler  at  once  asked  him  the  result  of  his  errand. 

"  Ah,  sir,"  replied  the  young  detective,  "  I  have  a  fresh 
proof  of  that  mysterious  accomplice's  skill.  The  permit 
that  was  used  yesterday  to  see  young  Chupin,  was  in  the 
name  of  his  mother's  sister,  a  woman  named  Rose  Pitard. 
A  visiting  card  was  given  her  more  than  a  week  ago,  in 
compliance  with  a  request  endorsed  by  the  commissary  of 
police  of  her  district." 

The  magistrate's  surprise  was  so  intense  that  it  imparted 
to  his  face  an  almost  ludicrous  expression.  "  Is  this  aunt 
also  in  the  plot  ?  "  he  murmured. 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  replied  Lecoq  shaking  his  head. 
"  At  all  events,  it  wasn't  she  who  went  to  the  prison  parlor 
yesterday.  The  clerks  at  the  Prefecture  remember  the 
widow's  sister  very  well,  and  gave  me  a  full  description  of 
her.  She's  a  woman  over  five  feet  high,  with  a  very  dark 


172  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

complexion  ;  and  very  wrinkled  and  weather-beaten  about 
the  face.  She's  quite  sixty  years  old ;  whereas,  yesterday's 
visitor  was  short  and  fair,  and  not  more  than  forty-five." 

"  If  that's  the  case,"  interrupted  M.  Segmuller,  "  this 
visitor  must  be  one  of  our  fugitives." 

"  I  don't  think  so." 

"  Who  do  you  suppose  she  was,  then  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  landlady  of  the  Hotel  de  Mariembourg — that 
clever  woman  who  succeeded  so  well  in  deceiving  me. 
But  she  had  better  take  care  !  There  are  means  of  veri- 
fying my  suspicions." 

The  magistrate  scarcely  heard  Lecoq's  last  words,  so 
enraged  was  he  at  the  inconceivable  audacity  and  devotion, 
displayed  by  so  many  people  :  all  of  whom  were  apparently 
willing  to  run  the  greatest  risks,  so  long  as  they  could 
only  assure  the  murderer's  incognito. 

"  But  how  could  the  accomplice  have  known  of  the  ex- 
istence of  this  permit  ? "  he  asked  after  a  pause. 

"Oh,  nothing  could  be  easier,  sir,"  replied  Lecoq. 
"  When  the  Widow  Chupin  and  the  accomplice  had  that  in- 
terview at  the  station  house  near  the  Barriere  d'ltalie, 
they  both  realized  the  necessity  of  warning  Polyte.  While 
trying  to  devise  some  means  of  getting  to  him,  the  old 
woman  remembered  her  sister's  visiting  card,  and  the  man 
made  some  excuse  to  borrow  it." 

"  Yes,  such  must  be  the  case,"  said  M.  Segmuller,  ap- 
provingly. "  It  will  be  necessary  to  ascertain,  how- 
ever  " 

"  And  I  will  ascertain,"  interrupted  Lecoq,  with  a  reso- 
lute air,  "  if  you  will  only  entrust  the  matter  to  me,  sir.  If 
you  will  authorise  me  I  will  have  two  spies  on  the  watch 
before  to-night,  one  in  the  Rue  de  la  Butte-aux-Cailles,  and 
the  other  at  the  door  of  the  Hotel  de  Mariembourg.  If 
the  accomplice  ventured  to  visit  Toinon,  or  Madame 
Milner,  he  would  be  arrested ;  and  then  we  should  have 
our  turn !  " 

However,  there  was  no  time  to  waste  in  vain  words  and 
idle  boasting.  Lecoq  therefore  checked  himself,  and  took 
up  his  hat  preparatory  to  departure.  "  Now,"  said  he,  "  I 
must  ask  you  sir,  for  my  liberty ;  if  you  have  any  orders, 
you  will  find  a  trusty  messenger  in  the  corridor,  Fathe? 
Absinthe,  one  of  my  colleagues.  I  want  to  find  out  some- 
thing about  Lacheneur's  letter  and  the  diamond  earring." 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  173 

"  Go,  then,"  replied  M.  Segmuller,  "  and  good  luck  to 
jou!" 

Good  luck  !  Yes,  indeed,  Lecoq  looked  for  it.  If,  up 
to  the  present  moment,  he  had  taken  his  successive  defeats 
good-humouredly,  it  was  because  he  believed  that  he  had  a 
talisman  in  his  pocket,  which  was  bound  to  ensure  ultimate 
victory. 

"  I  shall  be  very  stupid  if  I  can't  discover  the  owner 
of  such  a  valuable  jewel,"  he  soliloquized,  referring  to  the 
diamond  earring.  "  And  when  I  find  the  owner  I  shall  at 
the  same  time,  discover  our  mysterious  prisoner's  identity." 

The  first  step  to  be  taken  was  to  ascertain  who  the  ear- 
ring had  been  bought  from.  It  would  naturally  be  a 
tedious  process  to  go  from  jeweller  to  jeweller  and  ask, 
"  Do  you  know  this  jewel,  was  it  set  by  you,  and  if  so  who 
did  you  sell  it  to  ? "  But  fortunately,  Lecoq  was  acquainted 
with  a  man  whose  knowledge  of  the  trade  might  at  once 
throw  light  on  the  matter.  This  individual  was  an  old 
Hollander,  named  Van  Numen,  who  as  a  connoisseur  in 
precious  stones,  was  probably  without  his  rival  in  Paris. 
He  was  employed  by  the  Prefecture  of  Police,  as  an  expert 
in  all  such  matters.  He  was  considered  rich.  Despite 
his  shabby  appearance,  he  was  rightly  considered  rich, 
and,  in  point  of  fact,  he  was  indeed  far  more  wealthy  than 
people  generally  supposed.  Diamonds  were  his  especial 
passion,  and  he  always  had  several  in  his  pocket,  in  a  lit- 
tle box  which  he  would  pull  out  and  open  at  least  a  dozen 
times  an  hour,  just  as  a  snuff-taker  continually  produces  his 
snuff-box. 

This  worthy  man  greeted  Lecoq  very  affably.  He  put 
on  his  glasses,  examined  the  jewel  with  a  grimace  of  sat- 
isfaction, and,  in  the  tone  of  an  oracle,  remarked :  "  That 
stone  is  worth  eight  thousand  francs,  and  it  was  set  by 
Doisty,  in  the  Rue  de  la  Paix." 

Twenty  minutes  later,  Lecoq  entered  this  well  known 
jeweller's  establishment.  Van  Numen  had  not  been  mis- 
taken. Doisty  immediately  recognized  the  earring,  which 
had,  indeed,  come  from  his  shop.  But  who  had  he  sold  it 
to  ?  He  could  not  recollect,  for  it  had  passed  out  of  his 
hands  three  or  four  years  before. 

"  Wait  a  moment  though,"  said  he,  "  I  will  just  ask  my 
wife,  who  has  a  wonderful  memory." 

Madame  Doisty  truly  deserved  this  eulogium.    A  single 


I?4  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

glance  at  the  jewel  enabled  her  to  say  that  she  had  seen 
this  earring  before,  and  that  the  pair  had  been  purchased 
from  them  by  the  Marchioness  d'Arlange. 

"  You  must  recollect,"  she  added,  turning  to  her  hus- 
band, "  that  the  Marchioness  only  gave  us  nine  thousand 
francs  on  account,  and  that  we  had  all  the  trouble  in  the 
world  to  make  her  pay  the  balance." 

Her  husband  did  remember  this  circumstance ;  and  in 
recording  his  recollection,  he  exchanged  a  significant 
glance  with  his  wife. 

"  Now,"  said  the  detective,  "  I  should  like  to  have  this 
marchioness's  address." 

"  She  lives  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain,"  replied 
Madame  Doisty,  "  near  the  Esplanade  des  Invalides." 

Lecoq  had  refrained  from  any  sign  of  satisfaction,  while 
he  was  in  the  jeweller's  presence.  But,  directly  he  had 
left  the  shop,  he  evinced  such  delirious  joy  that  the  pass- 
ers-by asked  themselves  in  amazement  if  he  were  not  mad. 
He  did  not  walk,  but  fairly  danced  over  the  stones,  ges- 
ticulating in  the  most  ridiculous  fashion,  as  he  addressed 
this  triumphant  monologue  to  the  empty  air :  "At  last,'* 
said  he,  "  this  affair  emerges  from  the  mystery  that  has  en- 
shrouded it.  At  last  I  reach  the  veritable  actors  in  the 
drama,  the  exalted  personages  whose  existence  I  had  sus- 
pected. Ah  1  Gevrol,  my  illustrious  General !  you  talked 
about  a  Russian  princess,  but  you  will  be  obliged  to 
content  yourself  with  a  simple  marchioness." 

But  the  vertigo  that  had  seized  the  young  detective 
gradually  disappeared.  His  good  sense  re-asserted  itself, 
and  looking  calmly  at  the  situation  he  felt  that  he  should 
need  all  his  presence  of  mind,  penetration,  and  sagacity  to 
bring  the  expedition  to  a  successful  finish.  What  course 
should  he  pursue,  on  entering  the  marchioness's  presence, 
in  order  to  draw  from  her  a  full  confession  and  to  obtain 
full  particulars  of  the  murder,  as  well  as  the  murderer's 
namel 

"It  will  be  best  to  threaten  her,  to  frighten  her  into 
confession,"  he  soliloquized.  *  If  I  give  her  time  for  re- 
flection, I  shall  learn  nothing." 

He  paused  in  his  cogitations,  for  he  had  reached  the 
residence  of  the  Marchioness  d'Arlange — a  charming  man« 
sion  with  a  court-yard  in  front  and  garden  in  the  rear. 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  175 

Before  entering,  he  deemed  it  advisable  to  obtain  some 
information  concerning  the  inmates. 

"  It  is  here,  then/'  he  murmured,  "  that  I  am  to  find  the 
solution  of  the  enigma !  Here,  behind  those  embroidered 
curtains  dwells  the  frightened  fugitive  of  the  other  night. 
What  agony  of  fear  must  torture  her  since  she  has  dis- 
covered the  loss  of  her  earring  1 " 

For  more  than  an  hour,  standing  under  a  neighbor's  porte- 
cochere,  Lecoq  remained  watching  the  house.  He  would 
have  liked  to  see  the  face  of  any  one ;  but  the  time  passed 
by  and  not  even  a  shadow  could  be  detected  behind  the 
curtain  ;  not  even  a  servant  passed  across  the  court-yard. 
At  last,  losing  patience,  the  young  detective  determined 
to  make  inquiries  in  the  neighbourhood,  for  he  could  not 
take  a  decisive  step  without  obtaining  some  knowledge  of 
the  people  he  was  to  encounter.  While  wondering  where 
he  could  obtain  the  in  formation  he  required,  he  perceived,  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  street,  the  keeper  of  a  wine-shop 
smoking  on  his  doorstep. 

At  once  approaching  and  pretending  that  he  had  for- 
gotten an  address,  Lecoq  politely  asked  for  the  house 
where  Marchioness  d'Arlange  resided.  Without  a  word, 
and  without  condescending  to  take  his  pipe  from  his 
mouth,  the  man  pointed  to  the  mansion,  which  Lecoq  had 
previously  watched. 

There  was  a  way  however,  to  make  him  more  communi* 
cative,  namely,  to  enter  the  shop,  call  for  something  kto 
drink,  and  invite  the  landlord  to  drink  as  well.  This  was 
what  Lecoq  did,  and  the  sight  of  two  well-filled  glasses 
unbound,  as  by  enchantment,  the  man's  hitherto  silent 
tongue.  The  young  detective  could  not  have  found  a  bet- 
ter person  to  question,  for  this  same  individual  had  been 
established  in  the  neighbourhood  for  ten  years,  and  en- 
joyed among  the  servants  of  the  aristocratic  families  hert 
residing  a  certain  amount  of  confidence. 

"  I  pity  you  if  you  are  going  to  the  machioness's  house 
to  collect  a  bill,"  he  remarked  to  Lecoq.  "  You  will  have 
plenty  of  time  to  learn  the  way  here  before  you  see  your 
money.  You  will  only  be  another  of  the  many  creditors 
vho  never  let  her  bell  alone." 

"  The  deuce  I     Is  she  as  poor  as  that  ? " 

"  Poor  1    Why,  every  one  knows  that  she  has  a  comfort 


176  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

able  income  ;  without  counting  this  house.     But  when  one 
spends  double  one's  income  every  year,  you  know — " 

The  landlord  stopped  short,  to  call  Lecoq's  attention  to 
two  ladies  who  were  passing  along  the  street,  one  of  them, 
a  woman  of  forty,  dressed  in  black ;  the  other,  a  girl  half- 
way through  her  teens.  "  There,"  quoth  the  wine-seller, 
"goes  the  marchioness's  grand-daughter,  Mademoiselle 
Claire,  with  her  governess,  Mademoiselle  Smith." 

Lecoq's  head  whirled.  "  Her  grand-daughter !  "  he  stam- 
mered. 

"  Yes — the  daughter  of  her  deceased  son,  if  you  prefei 
it." 

"  How  old  is  the  marchioness,  then  ?  " 

"  At  least  sixty :  but  one  would  never  suspect  it.  She 
is  one  of  those  persons  who  live  a  hundred  years.  And 
what  an  old  wretch  she  is  too.  She  would  think  no  more 
of  knocking  me  over  the  head  than  I  would  of  emptying 
this  glass  of  wine — " 

"  Excuse  me,"  interrupted  Lecoq,  "  but  does  she  live 
alone  in  that  great  house  ? " 

"  Yes — that  is — with  her  grand-daughter,  the  governess, 
and  two  servants.  But  what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  " 

This  last  question  was  not  uncalled  for ;  for  Lecoq  had 
turned  deadly  white.  The  magic  edifice  of  his  hopes  had 
crumbled  beneath  the  weight  of  this  man's  words  as  com- 
pletely as  if  it  were  some  frail  house  of  cards  erected  by  a 
child.  He  had  only  sufficient  strength  to  murmur 
"  Nothing— nothing  at  all." 

Then,  as  he  could  endure  this  torture  of  uncertainty  no 
longer,  he  went  towards  the  marchioness's  house  and  rang 
the  bell.  The  servant  who  came  to  open  the  door  exam 
ined  him  attentively,  and  then  announced  that  Madame 
d'Arlange  was  in  the  country.  He  evidently  fancied  that 
Lecoq  was  a  creditor. 

But  the  young  detective  insisted  so  adroitly,  giving  the 
lackey  to  understand  so  explicitly  that  he  did  not  come  to 
collect  money,  and  speaking  so  earnestly  of  urgent  busi- 
ness, that  the  servant  finally  admitted  him  to  the  hall,  saying 
that  he  would  go  and  see  if  madame  had  really  gone  out. 

Fortunately  for  Lecoq,  she  happened  to  be  at  home, 
and  an  instant  afterwards  the  valet  returned  requesting  the 
young  detective  to  follow  him.  After  passing  through  a  large 
and  magnificently  furnished  drawing-room,  they  reached  a 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  177 

charming  boudoir,  hung  with  rose-coloured  curtains,  where, 
sitting  by  the  fireside,  in  a  large  feasy-chair,  Lecoq  found 
an  old  woman,  tall^  bony,  and  terrible  of  aspect,  her 
face  loaded  with  paint,  and  her  person  covered  with 
ornaments.  This  aged  coquette  was  Madame,  the  Mat» 
chioness,  who,  for  the  time  being,  was  engaged  in  knitting  a 
stripe  of  green  wool.  She  turned  towards  her  visitor  just 
enough  to  show  him  the  rouge  on  one  cheek,  and  then,  as 
he  seemed  rather  frightened — a  fact  flattering  to  her  vanity 
— she  spoke  in  an  affable  tone.  "  Ah,  well !  young  man," 
said  she,  "  what  brings  you  here  ?  " 

In  point  of  fact,  Lecoq  was  not  frightened,  but  he  was 
intensely  disappointed  to  find  that  Madame  d'Arlange 
could  not  possibly  be  one  of  the  women  who  had  escaped 
from  the  Widow  Chupin's  hovel  on  the  night  of  the  mur- 
der. There  was  nothing  about  her  appearance  that  cor- 
responded in  the  least  degree  with  the  descriptions  given 
by  Papillon. 

Remembering  the  small  foot-prints  left  in  the  snow  by 
the  two  fugitives,  the  young  detective  glanced  moreover  at 
the  marchioness's  feet,  just  perceivable  beneath  her  skirt 
and  his  disappointment  reached  its  climax  when  he  found 
that  they  were  truly  colossal  in  size. 

"  Well  ?  are  you  dumb  ?  "  inquired  the  old  lady,  raising 
her  voice. 

Without  making  a  direct  reply,  Lecoq  produced  the 
precious  earring,  and  placing  it  upon  the  table  beside  the 
marchioness,  remarked  :  "  I  bring  you  this  jewel,  madame, 
which  I  have  found,  and  twhich,  I  am  told,  belongs  to 
you." 

Madame  d'Arlange  laid  down  her  knitting  and  proceed- 
ed to  examine  the  earring.  "  It  is  true,"  she  said,  after 
a  moment,  "  that  this  ornament  formerly  belonged  to  me. 
It  was  a  fancy  I  had,  about  four  years  ago,  and  it  cost  me 
dear — at  least  twenty  thousand  francs.  Ah !  Doisty,  the 
man  who  sold  me  those  diamonds,  must  make  a  handsome 
income.  But  I  had  a  granddaughter  to  educate  !  and  press- 
ing need  of  money  compelled  me  to  sell  them." 

"  To  whom,"  asked  Lecoq,  eagerly. 

"  Eh  ?  "  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  evidently  shocked  at  his 
audacity,  "  you  are  very  inquisitive  upon  my  word  !  " 

"Excuse  me,  madame,  but  I  am  anxious  to  find  the 
owner  of  this  valuable  ornament." 

12 


I78  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

Madame  <2'Arlange  regarded  her  visitor  witn  an  air  of 
mingled  curiosity  and  surprise.  "  Such  honesty  1 "  said  sne. 
"  Oh,  oh !  And  of  course  you  don't  hope  for  a  sou  by  way 
of  reward — " 

"  Madame ! " 

"  Good,  good  !  There  i»  not  the  least  need  for  you  to 
turn  as  red  as  a  poppy,  young  man.  I  sold  these  diamonds 
to  a  great  Austrian  lady — the  Baroness  de  Watchau." 

"  And  where  does  this  lady  reside  ? " 

"  At  the  Pere  la  Chaise,  probably,  since  she  died  about 
a  year  ago.  Ah  !  these  women  of  the  present  day — an  extra 
waltz,  or  the  merest  draught,  and  it's  all  over  with  them  1 
In  my  time,  after  each  galop,  we  girls  used  to  swallow  a  tum- 
bler of  sweetened  wine,  and  sit  down  between  two  open 
doors.  And  we  did  very  well,  as  you  see." 

"  But,  madame,"  insisted  Lecoq,  "  the  Baroness  de 
Watchau  must  have  left  some  one  behind  her — a  husband, 
or  children — " 

"  No  one  but  a  brother,  who  holds  a  court  position  at 
Vienna :  and  who  could  not  leave  even  to  attend  the  fu- 
neral. He  sent  orders  that  all  his  sister's  personal  prop- 
erty should  be  sold — not  even  excepting  her  wardrobe— 
and  the  money  sent  to  him." 

Lecoq  could  not  repress  an  exclamation  of  disappoint- 
ment. "  How  unfortunate  !  "  he  murmured. 

"  Why  ? "  asked  the  old  lady.  "  Under  these  circum- 
stances, the  diamond  will  probably  remain  in  your  hands, 
and  I  am  rejoiced  that  it  should  be  so.  It  will  be  a  fit- 
ting reward  for  your  honesty." 

Madame  d'Arlange  was  naturally  not  aware  that  her 
remark  implied  the  most  exquisite  torture  for  Lecoq.  Ah  ! 
if  it  should  be  as  she  said,  if  he  should  never  find  the  lady 
who  had  lost  this  costly  jewel !  Smarting  under  the  mar- 
chioness's unintended  irony,  he  would  have  liked  to  apostro- 
phize her  in  angry  terms  ;  but  it  could  not  be,  for  it  was 
advisable  if  not  absolutely  necessary  that  ne  should  con- 
ceal his  true  identity.  Accordingly,  he  contrived  to  smile, 
and  even  stammered  an  acknowledgment  of  Madame 
d'Arlange's  good  wishes.  Then,  as  if  he  had  no  more  to 
expect,  he  made  her  a  low  bow  ana  withdrew. 

This  new  misfortune  well-nign  overwhelmed  him.  Ont» 
by  one  all  the  threads  upon  whieti  he  had  relied  to  guide 
him  out  of  this  intricate  labyrinth  were  breaking  in  his 


MONSIEUR  L£COQ.  179 

hands.  In  |the  present  instance  he  could  scarcely  be  the 
dupe  of  some  fresh  comedy,  for  the  murderer's  accomplice 
had  taken  Doisty  the  jeweller  into  his  confidence,  he  would 
have  instructed  him  to  say  that  the  earring  had  never  come 
from  his  establishment,  and  that  he  could  not  conse- 
quently tell  who  it  had  been  sold  to.  On  the  contrary,  how 
ever,  Doisty  and  his  wife  had  readily  given  Madame  d'Ar- 
lange's  name  and  all  the  circumstances  pointed  in  favor  of 
their  sincerity.  Then,  again,  there  was  good  reason  to  be- 
lieve in  the  veracity  of  the  marchioness's  assertions.  They 
were  sufficiently  authenticated  by  a  significant  glance  which 
Lecoq  had  detected  between  the  jeweller  and  his  wife. 
The  meaning  of  this  glance  could  not  be  doubted.  It  im- 
plied plainly  that  both  husband  and  wife  were  of  opinion 
that  in  buying  these  earrings  the  marchioness  engaged  in 
one  of  those  little  speculations  which  are  more  common 
than  many  people  might  supposed  among  ladies  moving  in 
high-class  society.  Being  in  urgent  want  of  ready  money, 
she  had  bought  on  credit  at  a  high  price  to  sell  for  cash  at 
a  loss. 

As  Lecoq  was  anxious  to  investigate  the  matter  as  far 
as  possible  he  returned  to  Doisty's  establishment,  and,  by 
a  plausible  pretext,  succeeded  in  gaining  a  sight  of  the 
books  in  which  the  jeweler  recorded  his  transactions. 
He  soon  found  the  sale  of  the  earrings  duly  recorded — 
specified  by  Madame  Doisty  at  the  date — both  in  the  day- 
book and  the  ledger.  Madame  d'  Arlange  was  first  paid 
9,000  francs  on  account  and  the  balance  of  the  purchase 
money  (an  equivalent  sum),  had  been  received  in  instal- 
ments at  long  intervals  subsequently.  Now,  if  it  had 
been  easy  for  Madame  Milner  to  make  a  false  entry  in  her 
traveller's  registry  at  the  Hotel  de  Mariembourg,  it  was 
absurd  to  suppose  that  the  jeweler  had  falsified  all  his 
accounts  for  four  years.  Hence,  the  facts  were  indis- 
putable; and  yet,  the  young  detective  was  not  satisfied. 

He  hurried  to  the  Faubourg-Saint-Honore,  to  the  house 
formerly  occupied  by  the  Baroness  de  Watchau,  and  there 
found  a  good-natured  concierge,  who  at  once  informed 
him  that  after  the  Baroness's  death,  her  furniture  and  per 
sonal  effects  had  been  taken  to  the  great  auction  mart  in 
the  Rue  Drouot ;  the  sale  being  conducted  by  M.  Petit,  the 
eminent  auctioneer. 

Without  losing  a  minute,  Leeoq  hastened  to  this  indi 


i8o  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

vidual's  office.  M.  Petit  remembered  the  Watchau  sale 
very  well ;  it  had  made  quite  a  sensation  at  the  time,  and 
and  on  searching  among  his  papers  he  soon  found  a  long 
catalogue  of  the  various  articles  sold.  Several  lots  of  jew- 
ellery were  mentioned,  with  the  sums  paid,  and  the  names  of 
the  purchasers ;  but  there  was  not  the  slightest  allusion  to 
these  particular  earrings.  When  Lecoq  produced  the  dia- 
mond he  had  in  his  pocket,  the  auctioneer  could  not  re- 
member that  he  had  ever  seen  it ;  though  of  course  this 
was  no  evidence  to  the  contrary,  for  as  he  himself  remarked 
— so  many  articles  passed  through  his  hands  !  However, 
this  much  he  could  declare  upon  oath;  the  baroness's 
brother,  her  only  heir,  had  preserved  nothing — not  so 
much  as  a  pin's  worth  of  his  sister's  effects :  although  he 
had  been  in  a  great  hurry  to  receive  the  proceeds,  which 
amounted  to  the  pleasant  sum  of  one  hundred  and  sixty- 
seven  thousand  five  hundred  and  thirty  francs,  all  ex- 
penses deducted. 

"  Everything  this  lady  possessed  was  sold  ? "  inquired 
Lecoq. 

"  Everything." 

"  And  what  is  the  name  of  this  brother  of  hers  ?  " 

"  Watchau,  also.  The  baroness  had  probably  married 
one  of  her  relatives.  Until  last  year,  her  brother  occupied 
a  very  prominent  diplomatic  position.  I  think  he  now 
resides  at  Berlin." 

Certainly  this  information  would  not  seem  to  indicate 
that  the  auctioneer  had  been  tampered  with;  and  yet 
Lecoq  was  not  satisfied.  "  It  is  very  strange,"  he  thought, 
as  he  walked  towards  his  lodgings,  "  that  whichever  side 
I  turn,  in  this  affair,  I  find  mention  of  Germany.  The 
murderer  comes  from  Leipsic,  Madame  Milner  must  be  a 
Bavarian,  and  now  here  is  an  Austrian  baroness." 

It  was  too  late  to  make  any  further  inquiries  that  even- 
ing, and  Lecoq  went  to  bed  ;  but  the  next  morning,  at  an 
early  hour,  he  resumed  his  investigations  with  fresh  ardour. 
There  now  seemed  only  one  remaining  clue  to  success: 
the  letter  signed  "  Lacheneur,"  which  had  been  found  in 
the  pocket  of  the  murdered  soldier.  This  letter,  judging 
from  the  half-effaced  heading  at  the  top  of  the  note-paperv 
must  have  been  written  in  some  cafe  on  the  Boulevard 
Beaumarchais.  To  discover  which  precise  cafe  would  be 
mere  child's  play;  and  indeed  the  fourth  landlord  to 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  181 

whom  Lecoq  exhibited  the  letter  recognized  the  paper  as 
his.  But  neither  he,  nor  his  wife,  nor  the  young  lady  at 
the  counter,  nor  the  waiters,  nor  any  of  the  customers  pres- 
ent at  the  time,  had  ever  once  heard  mention  made  of  this 
singular  name — Lacheneur. 

And  now  what  was  Lecoq  to  do  ?  Was  the  case  utterly 
hopeless?  Not  yet.  Had  not  the  spurious  soldier  de- 
clared that  this  Lacheneur  was  an  old  comedian  ?  Seiz- 
ing upon  this  frail  clue,  as  a  drowning  man  clutches  at  the 
merest  fragment  of  the  floating  wreck,  Lecoq  turned  his 
steps  in  another  direction,  and  hurried  from  theatre  to 
theatre,  asking  every  one,  from  door-keeper  to  manager  : 
"  Don't  you  know  an  actor  named  Lacheneur? " 

Alas !  one  and  all  gave  a  negative  reply,  at  times  indulg- 
ing in  some  rough  joke  at  the  oddity  of  the  name.  And 
when  any  one  asked  the  young  detective  what  the  man  he 
was  seeking  was  like,  what  could  he  reply  ?  His  answer 
was  necessarily  limited  to  the  virtuous  Toinon's  phrase  : 
"  I  thought  him  a  very  respectable-looking  gentleman." 
This  was  not  a  very  graphic  description,  however,  and  be- 
sides, it  was  rather  doubtful  what  a  woman  like  Polyte 
Chupin's  wife  might  mean  by  the  word  "respectable." 
Did  she  apply  it  to  the  man's  age,  to  his  personal  aspect, 
or  to  his  apparent  fortune. 

Sometimes  those  whom  Lecoq  questioned  would  a.«k 
what  parts  this  comedian  of  his  was  in  the  habit  of  play- 
ing ;  and  then  the  young  detective  could  make  no  reply 
whatever.  He  kept  for  himself  the  harassing  thought 
that  the  role  now  being  performed  by  the  unknown  Lache- 
neur was  driving  him — Lecoq — wild  with  despair. 

Eventually,  our  hero  had  recourse  to  a  method  of  inves- 
tigation, which  strange  to  say,  the  police  seldom  employ, 
save  in  extreme  cases,  although  it  is  at  once  sensible  and 
simple,  and  generally  fraught  with  success.  It  consists  in 
examining  all  the  hotel  and  lodging-house  registers,  in 
which  the  landlords  are  compelled  to  record  the  names  of 
their  tenants,  even  should  the  lattor  merely  sojourn  under 
their  roofs  for  a  single  night. 

Rising  long  before  daybreak,  and  going  to  bed  late  at 
night  Lecoq  spent  all  his  time  in  visiting  the  countless 
hotels,  and  furnished  lodgings  in  Paris.  But  still  and 
ever  his  search  was  vain.  He  never  once  came  across 
the  name  of  Lacheneur  ;  and  a  last  he  began  to  ask  him- 


i82  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

self  if  such  a  name  really  existed,  or  if  it  were  not  some 
pseudonym  invented  for  convenience.  He  had  not  found 
it  even  in  Didot's  directory,  the  so  called  Almanack  Boitin, 
where  one  finds  all  the  most  singular  and  absurd  names 
in  France — those  which  are  formed  of  the  most  fantastic 
mingling  of  syllables. 

Still,  nothing  could  daunt  him  or  turn  him  from  the 
almost  impossible  task  he  had  undertaken,  and  his  obsti- 
nate perseverance  well  nigh  developed  into  monomania. 
He  was  no  longer  subject  to  occasional  out-bursts  of  anger, 
quickly  repressed ;  but  lived  in  a  state  of  constant  exasper- 
ation, which  soon  impaired  the  clearness  of  his  mind.  No 
more  theories,  or  ingenious  deductions,  no  more  subtle 
reasoning.  He  pursued  his  search,  without  method  and 
without  order — much  as  Father  Absinthe  might  have  done 
when  under  the  influence  of  alcohol.  Perhaps  he  had 
come  to  rely  less  upon  his  own  shrewdness  than  upon 
chance  to  reveal  to  him  the  substance  of  the  mystery,  of 
which  he  had  as  yet  only  detected  the  shadow. 


XVIII. 

WHEN  a  heavy  stone  is  thrown  into  a  lake  a  considera- 
ble commotion  ensues,  the  water  spouts  and  seethes  and 
bubbles,  and  frequently  a  tall  jet  leaps  into  the  air.  But 
all  this  agitation  only  lasts  for  a  moment ;  the  bubbling 
subsides  as  the  circles  of  the  passing  whirlpool  grow  larg- 
er and  larger ;  the  surface  regains  at  last  its  customary 
smoothness ;  and  soon  no  trace  remains  of  the  passage 
of  the  stone,  now  buried  in  the  depths  below. 

So  it  is  with  the  events  of  our  daily  life,  however  mo- 
mentous they  may  appear  at  the  hour  of  their  occurrence. 
It  seems  as  if  their  impressions  would  last  for  years  ;  but 
no,  they  speedily  sink  into  the  depths  of  the  past,  and 
time  obliterates  their  passage — just  as  the  water  of  the 
lake  closes  over  and  hides  the  stone,  for  an  instant  the 
cause  of  such  commotion.  Thus  it  was  that  at  the  end  of 
a  fortnight  the  frightful  crime  committed  in  the  Widow 
Chupin's  drinking-den,  the  triple  murder  which  had  made 
all  Paris  shudder,  which  had  furnished  the  material  for  so 
many  newspaper  articles,  and  the  topic  for  such  indignant 
comments,  was  completely  forgotten.  Indeed,  had  the 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  183 

tragedy  at  the  Poivriere  occurred  in  the  times  of  Charle- 
magne, it  could  not  have  passed  more  thoroughly  out  of 
people's  minds.  It  was  remembered  only  in  three  places, 
at  the  Depot,  at  the  Prefecture  de  Police,  and  at  the  Pal- 
ais de  Justice. 

M.  Segmuller's  repeated  efforts  had  proved  as  unsuccess- 
ful as  Lecoq's.  Skilful  questioning,  ingenious  insinuations, 
forcible  threats  and  seductive  promises  had  proved  power- 
less to  overcome  the  dogged  spirit  of  absolute  denial, 
which  persistently  animated,  not  merely  the  prisoner  May, 
but  also  the  Widow  Chupin,  her  son  Polyte,  Toinon  the 
Virtuous,  and  Madame  Milner.  The  evidence  of  these  va- 
rious witnesses  showed  plainly  enough  that  they  were  all 
in  league  with  the  mysterious  accomplice ;  but  what  did 
this  knowledge  avail  ?  Their  attitude  never  varied  I 
And,  even  if  at  times  their  looks  gave  the  lie  to  their  de- 
nials, one  could  always  read  in  their  eyes  an  unshakened 
determination  to  conceal  the  truth. 

There  were  moments  when  the  magistrate,  overpowered 
by  a  sense  of  the  insufficiency  of  the  purely  moral  weapons 
at  his  disposal,  almost  regretted  that  the  Inquisition  was  sup- 
pressed. Yes,  in  presence  of  the  lies  that  were  told  him, 
lies  so  impudent  that  they  were  almost  insults,  he  no  lon- 
ger wondered  at  the  judicial  cruelties  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
or  at  the  use  of  the  muscle-breaking  rack,  the  flesh-burn- 
ing red-hot  pincers,  and  other  horrible  instruments,  which, 
by  the  physical  torture  they  inflicted,  forced  the  most  ob- 
stinate culprit  to  confess.  The  prisoner  May's  manner 
was  virtually  unaltered ;  and  far  from  showing  any  signs 
of  weakness,  his  assurance  had,  if  anything,  increased,  as 
though  he  were  confident  of  ultimate  victory  and  as 
though  he  had  in  some  way  learnt  that  the  prosecution 
had  failed  to  make  the  slightest  progress. 

On  one  occasion,  when  summoned  before  M.  Segmuller, 
he  ventured  to  remark  in  a  tone  of  covert  irony  :  "  Why 
do  you  keep  me  confined  so  long  in  a  secret  cell  ?  Am  I 
never  to  be  set  at  liberty  or  sent  to  the  assizes.  Am  I  to 
suffer  much  longer  on  account  of  your  fantastic  idea,  thai 
I  am  some  great  personage  in  disguise  ? " 

"  I  shall  keep  you  until  you  have  confessed,"  was  M 
Segtnuller's  answer. 

"  Confessed  what  ?  " 

"  Oh  1  you  know  very  welL*' 


i*4  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

The  prisoner  shrugged  his  shoulders  at  these  law  ivord.x 
and  then  in  a  tone  of  mingled  despondency  and  mockery 
retorted :  "  In  that  case  there  is  no  hope  of  my  ever  leav- 
ing this  cursed  prison  ! " 

It  was  probably  this  conviction  that  induced  him  to 
make  all  seeming  preparations  for  an  indefinite  stay.  He 
applied  for  and  obtained  a  portion  of  the  contents  of  the 
trunk  found  at  the  Hotel  de  Mariembourg,  and  evinced 
great  joy  when  the  various  knick-knacks  and  articles  of 
clothing  were  handed  over  to  him.  Thanks  to  the  money 
found  upon  his  person  when  arrested,  and  deposited  with 
the  prison  registrar,  he  was,  moreover,  able  to  procure 
many  little  luxuries,  which  are  never  denied  to  unconvicted 
prisoners  no  matter  what  may  be  the  charges  against  them, 
for  they  have  a  right  to  be  considered  as  innocent  until  a 
jury  has  decided  to  the  contrary.  To  while  away  the  time, 
May  next  asked  for  a  volume  of  Beranger's  songs,  and  his 
request  being  granted,  he  spent  most  of  the  day  in  learn- 
ing several  of  the  ditties  by  heart,  singing  them,  in  a  loud 
voice  and  with  considerable  taste.  This  fancy  having  excit- 
ed some  comment  he  pretended  that  he  was  cultivating  a  tal- 
ent which  might  be  useful  to  him  when  he  was  set  at  liber- 
ty. For  he  had  no  doubt  of  his  acquittal ;  at  least,  so  he 
declared  ;  and  if  he  were  anxious  about  the  date  of  his  trial, 
he  did  not  show  the  slightest  apprehension  concerning 
its  result. 

He  was  never  despondent  save  when  he  spoke  of  his  pro* 
fession.  To  all  appearance  he  pined  for  the  stage,  and,  in 
fact,  he  almost  wept  when  he  recalled  the  fantastic, 
many-coloured  costumes,  clad  in  which  he  had  once  ap- 
peared before  crowded  audiences — audiences  that  had  been 
convulsed  with  laughter  by  his  sallies  of  wit,  delivered  be- 
tween bursts  of  noisy  music.  He  seemed  to  have  become 
altogether  a  better  fellow ;  more  frank,  communicative, 
and  submissive.  He  eagerly  embraced  every  opportunity  to 
babble  about  his  past,  and  over  and  over  again  did  he  re- 
count the  adventures  of  the  roving  life  he  had  led  whilst 
in  the  employ  of  M.  Simpson,  the  showman.  He  had,  of 
course,  travelled  a  great  deal ;  and  he  remembered  every- 
thing he  had  seen  ;  possessing,  moreover,  an  inexhaustible 
fund  of  amusing  stories,  with  which  he  entertained  his  cus- 
todians. His  manner  and  his  words  were  so  natural  thai 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  18$ 

head-keepers  and  subordinate  turnkeys  alike  were  quite 
willing  to  give  credit  to  his  assertions. 

The  governor  of  the  Depot  alone  remained  unconvinc- 
ed. He  had  declared  that  this  pretended  buffoon  must 
be  some  dangerous  criminal  who  had  escaped  from  Cay- 
enne, and  who  for  this  reason  was  determined  to  conceal  his 
antecedents.  Such  being  this  functionary's  opinion  he 
tried  every  means  to  substantiate  it.  Accordingly,  during 
an  entire  fortnight,  May  was  submitted  to  the  scrutiny  of 
innumerable  members  of  the  police-force,  to  whom  were 
added  all  the  more  notable  private  detectives  of  the  capital. 
No  one  recognised  him,  however,  and  although  his  pho- 
tograph was  sent  to  all  the  prisons  and  police  stations  of 
the  empire,  not  one  of  the  officials  could  recognise  his 
features. 

Other  circumstances  occurred,  each  of  which  had  its  in- 
fluence, and  one  and  all  of  them  speaking  in  the  prisoner's 
favour.  For  instance,  the  second  bureau  of  the  Prefec- 
ture de  Police  found  positive  traces  of  the  existence  of  a 
strolling  artist,  named  Tringlot,  who  was  probably  the  man 
referred  to  in  May's  story.  This  Tringlot  had  been  dead 
several  years.  Then  again,  inquiries  made  in  Germany, 
revealed  the  fact  that  a  certain  M.  Simpson  was  very  well 
known  in  that  country,  where  he  had  achieved  great  celeb- 
rity as  a  circus  manager. 

In  presence  of  this  information  and  the  negative  result 
of  the  scrutiny  to  which  May  had  been  subjected,  the  gov- 
ernor of  the  Depot  abandoned  his  views  and  openly  confess- 
ed that  he  had  been  mistaken.  "  The  prisoner,  May,"  he 
wrote  to  the  magistrate,  "  is  really  and  truly  what  he  pre- 
tends to  be.  There  can  be  no  further  doubt  on  the 
subject."  This  message,  it  may  be  added,  was  sent  at  Gev- 
rol's  instigation. 

So  thus  it  was  that  M.  Segmuller  and  Lecoq  alone 
remained  of  their  opinion.  This  opinion  was  at  least 
worthy  of  consideration,  as  they  alone  knew  all  the  details 
of  the  investigation  which  had  been  conducted  with  such 
strict  secrecy  ;  and  yet  this  fact  was  of  little  import.  It  is 
not  merely  unpleasant,  but  often  extremely  dangerous  to 
struggle  on  against  all  the  world,  and  unfortunately  for 
truth  and  logic  one  man's  opinion  correct  though  it  may 
be,  is  nothing  in  the  balance  of  daily  life  against  the 
faulty  views  of  a  thousand  adversaries. 


i86  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

The  "  May  affair  "  had  soon  become  notorious  among 
the  members  of  the  police-force ;  and  whenever  Lecoq  ap- 
peared at  the  Prefecture,  he  had  to  brave  his  colleagues, 
sarcastic  pleasantry.  Nor  did  M.  Segmuller  escape  scot 
free;  for  more  than  one  fellow-magistrate  meeting  him  on 
the  stairs  or  in  the  corridor,  inquired,  with  a  smile,  what 
he  was  doing  with  his  Caspar-Hauser,  his  man  in  the  Iron 
Mask,  in  a  word,  with  his  mysterious  mountebank.  When 
thus  assailed,  both  M.  Segmuller  and  Lecoq  could  scarcely 
restrain  those  movements  of  angry  impatience,  which 
come  naturally  to  a  person  who  feels  certain  he  is  in  the 
right  and  yet  can  not  prove  it. 

"  Ah,  me  !  "  sometimes  exclaimed  the  magistrate,  "  why 
did  d'Escorval  break  his  leg  ?  Had  it  not  been  for  that 
cursed  mishap,  he  would  have  been  obliged  to  endure  all 
these  perplexities,  and  I — I  should  be  enjoying  myself  like 
other  people." 

"  And  I  thought  myself  so  shrewd ! "  murmured  the 
young  detective  by  his  side. 

Little  by  little,  anxiety  did  its  work.  Magistrate  and 
detective  both  lost  their  appetites  and  looked  haggard ;  and 
yet  the  idea  of  yielding  never  once  occurred  to  them.  Al- 
though of  very  different  natures,  they  were  both  determined 
to  persevere  in  the  task  they  had  set  themselves — that 
of  solving  this  tantalizing  enigma.  Lecoq,  indeed,  had 
resolved  to  renounce  all  other  claims  upon  his  time,  and 
to  devote  himself  entirely  to  the  study  of  the  case. 
"  Henceforth,"  he  said  to  M.  Segmuller,  "  I  also  will  con- 
stitute myself  a  prisoner;  and  although  the  suspected 
murderer  will  be  unable  to  see  me,  I  shall  not  lose  sight 
of  him/" 

It  so  happened  that  there  was  a  loft  between  the  cell 
occupied  by  May  and  the  roof  of  the  prison,  a  loft  of  such 
diminutive  proportions  that  a  man  of  average  height 
could  not  stand  upright  in  it.  This  loft  had  neither  win- 
dow nor  skylight,  and  the  gloom  would  have  been  intense, 
had  not  a  few  faint  sunrays  struggled  through  the  inter- 
stices of  some  ill-adjusted  tiles.  In  this  unattractive  garret 
Lecoq  established  himself  one  fine  morning,  just  at  the 
hour  when  May  was  taking  his  daily  tvalk  in  the  court- 
yard of  the  prison  accompanied  by  a  couple  of  keepers 
Under  these  circumstances  there  was  no  fear  of  Lecoq's 
movements  attracting  the  prisoner's  notice  or  Suspicion. 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  187 

The  garret  had  a  paved  floor,  and  first  of  all  the  young  de- 
tective removed  one  of  the  stones  with  a  pickaxe  he  had 
brought  for  the  purpose.  Beneath  this  stone  he  found  a 
timber  beam  through  which  he  next  proceeded  to  bore  a 
hole  of  funnel  shape,  large  at  the  top  and  gradually  dwind- 
ling until  on  piercing  the  ceiling  of  the  cell  it  was  no  more 
than  two-thirds  of  an  inch  in  diameter.  Prior  to  com- 
mencing his  operations,  Lecoq  had  visited  the  prisoner's 
quarters  and  had  skilfully  chosen  the  place  of  the  project- 
ed aperture,  so  that  the  stains  and  graining  of  the  beam 
would  hide  it  from  the  view  of  any  one  below.  He  was 
yet  at  work  when  the  governor  of  the  Depot  and  his  rival 
Gevrol  appeared  upon  the  threshold  of  the  loft. 

"  So  this  is  to  be  your  observatory,  Monsieur  Lecoq  !  " 
remarked  Gevrol,  with  a  sneering  laugh. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  will  not  be  very  comfortable  here." 

"  I  shall  be  less  uncomfortable  than  you  suppose,  I 
have  brought  a  large  blanket  with  me,  and  I  shall  stretch 
myself  out  on  the  floor  and  manage  to  sleep  here. 

"  So  that,  night  and  day,  you  wilJ  have  your  eye  on  the 
prisoner  ?  " 

"  Yes,  night  and  day." 

"  Without  giving  yourself  time  to  eat  or  drink  ? "  in- 
quired Gevrol. 

"Excuse  me!  Father  Absinthe  will  bring  me  my 
meals,  execute  any  errand  I  may  have,  and  relieve  at 
times  if  necessary." 

The  jealous  General  laughed ;  but  his  laugh,  loud  as  it 
was,  was  yet  a  trifle  constrained  "  Well,  I^pity  you,"  he 
said. 

"  Very  possibly." 

"  Do  you  know  what  you  will  look  like,  with  your  eye 
glued  to  that  hole  ? " 

"  Like  what  ?    Tell  me,  we  needn't  stand  on  ceremony," 

"  Ah,  well !  you  will  look  just  like  one  of  those  silly 
naturalists  who  put  all  sorts  of  little  insects  under  a  magni- 
fying glass,  and  spend  their  lives  in  watching  them." 

Lecoq  had  finished  his  work  ;  and  rose  from  his  kneel- 
ing position.  "You  couldn't  have  found  a  better 
comparison,  General,"  said  he.  "  I  owe  my  idea  to  those 
very  naturalists  you  speak  about  so  slightingly.  By  dint 
of  studying  those  little  creatures — as  you  say — under 


i88  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

a  microscope,  these  patient,  gifted  men  discover  the  habits 
and  instincts  of  the  insect  world.  Very  well  then.  What 
they  can  do  with  an  insect,  I  will  do  with  a  man !  " 

"  Oh  ho  !  "  said  the  governor  of  the  prison,  considera- 
bly astonished. 

"  Yes ;  that's  my  plan,"  continued  Lecoq.  "  I  want  to 
learn  this  prisoner's  secret ;  and  I  will  do  so.  That  I've 
sworn  ;  and  success  must  be  mine,  for,  however  strong  his 
courage  may  be,  he  will  have  his  moments  of  weakness, 
and  then  I  shall  be  present  at  them.  I  shall  be  present,  if 
ever  his  will  fails  him,  if  believing  himself  alone  he  lets 
his  mask  fall,  or  forgets  his  part  for  an  instant,  if  an  indis- 
creet word  escapes  him  in  his  sleep,  if  his  despair  elicits  a 
groan,  a  gesture,  or  a  look — I  shall  be  there  to  take 
note  of  it." 

"  The  tone  of  resolution  with  which  the  young  detective 
spoke  made  a  deep  impression  upon  the  governor's  mind. 
For  an  instant  he  was  a  believer  in  Lecoq's  theory ;  and 
he  was  impressed  by  the  strangeness  of  this  conflict  be- 
tween a  prisoner,  determined  to  preserve  the  secret  of  his 
identity,  and  the  agent  for  the  prosecution,  equally  deter- 
mined to  wrest  it  from  him.  "  Upon  my  word,  my  boy, 
you  are  not  wanting  in  courage  and  energy,"  said  he. 

"  Misdirected  as  it  may  be,"  growled  Gevrol,  who,  al- 
though he  spoke  very  slowly  and  deliberately,  was  in  his 
secret  soul  by  no  means  convinced  of  what  he  said.  Faith 
is  contagious,  and  he  was  troubled  in  spite  of  himself  by 
Lecoq's  imperturbable  assurance.  What  if  this  debutant 
in  the  profession  should  be  right,  and  he,  Gevrol,  the  ora- 
cle of  the  Prefecture,  wrong !  What  shame  and  ridicule 
would  be  his  portion,  then  !  But  once  again  he  inwardly 
swore  that  this  inexperienced  youngster  could  be  no  match 
for  an  old  veteran  like  himself,  and  then  added  aloud  : 
"  The  prefect  of  police  must  have  more  money  than  he 
knows  what  to  do  with,  to  pay  two  men  for  such  a  nonsen- 
sical job  as  this." 

Lecoq  disdained  to  reply  to  this  slighting  remark.  For 
more  than  a  fortnight  the  General  had  profited  of  every 
opportunity  to  make  himself  as  disagreeable  as  possible, 
and  the  young  detective  feared  he  would  be  unable  to 
control  his  temper  if  the  discussion  continued.  It  would 
be  better  to  remain  silent,  and  to  work  and  wait  for  suc- 
cess. To  succeed  would  be  revenge  enough  !  Moreover 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  1*9 

he  was  impatient  to  see  these  unwelcome  visitors  de- 
part ;  believing,  perhaps,  that  Gevrol  was  quite  capable 
of  attracting  the  prisoner's  attention  by  some  unusual 
sound. 

As  soon  as  they  went  away,  Lecoq  hastily  spread  his 
blanket  over  the  stones  and  stretched  himself  out  upon  it 
in  such  a  position  that  he  could  alternately  apply  his  eye 
and  his  ear  to  the  aperture.  In  this  position  he  had  an 
admirable  view  of  the  cell  below.  He  could  see  the  door, 
the  bed,  the  table,  and  the  chair;  only  the  small  space 
near  the  window,  and  the  window  itself,  were  beyond  his 
range  of  observation.  He  had  scarcely  completed  his 
survey,  when  he  heard  the  bolts  rattle  :  the  prisoner  was 
returning  from  his  walk.  He  seemed  in  excellent  spirits, 
and  was  just  completing  what  was,  undoubtedly,  a  very 
interesting  story,  since  the  keeper  who  accompanied  him 
lingered  for  a  moment  to  hear  the  finish.  Lecoq  was 
delighted  with  the  success  of  his  experiment.  He  could 
hear  as  easily  as  he  could  see.  Each  syllable  reached  his 
ear  distinctly,  and  he  had  not  lost  a  single  word  of  the 
recital,  which  was  amusing,  though  rather  coarse. 

The  turnkey  soon  left  the  cell ;  the  bolts  rattled  once 
more,  and  the  key  grated  in  the  lock.  After  walking 
once  or  twice  across  his  cell,  May  took  up  his  volume  of 
"  Beranger  "  and  for  an  hour  or  more  seemed  completely 
engrossed  in  its  contents.  Finally,  he  threw  himself  down 
upon  his  bed.  Here  he  remained  until  meal  time  in  the 
evening,  when  he  rose  and  ate  with  an  excellent  appetite, 
He  next  resumed  the  study  of  his  book,  and  did  not  go  to 
bed  until  the  lights  were  extinguished. 

Lecoq  knew  well  enough  that  during  the  night  his  eyes 
would  not  serve  him,  but,  he  trusted  that  his  ears  might 
prove  of  use,  hoping  that  some  tell-tale  word  might  escape 
the  prisoner's  lips  during  his  restless  slumber.  In  this 
expectation  he  was  disappointed.  May  tossed  to  and  fro 
upon  his  pallet ;  he  sighed,  and  one  might  have  thought 
he  was  sobbing,  but  not  a  syllable  escaped  his  lips.  He 
remained  in  bed  until  very  late  the  next  morning  ;  but  on 
hearing  the  bell  sound  the  hour  of  breakfast,  eleven 
o'clock,  he  sprang  from  his  couch  with  a  bound,  and  after 
capering  about  his  cell  for  a  few  moments,  began  to  sing, 
in  a  loud  and  cheerful  voice,  the  old  ditty  : 


190  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

"Diogenel 

Sous  ton  manteau,  libre  et  content, 
Je  ris,  je  bois,  sans  gene " 

The  prisoner  did  not  stop  singing  until  a  keeper  entered 
his  cell  carrying  his  breakfast.  The  day  now  beginning 
differed  in  no  respect  from  the  one  that  had  preceded  it, 
neither  did  the  night.  The  same  might  be  said  of  the 
next  day,  and  of  those  which  followed.  To  sing,  to  eat, 
to  sleep,  to  attend  to  his  hands  and  nails — such  was  the 
life  led  by  this  so-called  buffoon.  His  manner,  which 
never  varied,  was  that  of  a  naturally  cheerful  man,  terribly 
bored. 

Such  was  the  perfection  of  his  acting,  that,  after  six 
days  and  nights  of  constant  surveillance,  Lecoq  had 
detected  nothing  decisive,  nor  even  surprising.  And  yet 
he  did  not  despair.  He  had  noticed  that  every  morning, 
while  the  employes  of  the  prison  were  busy  distributing 
the  prisoner's  food,  May  invariably  began  to  sing  the 
same  ditty. 

"  Evidently  this  song  is  a  signal,"  thought  Lecoq. 
"  What  can  be  going  on  there  by  the  window  I  can't  see  ? 
I  must  know  to-morrow." 

Accordingly  on  the  following  morning  he  arranged 
that  May  should  be  taken  on  his  walk  at  half-past  ten 
o'clock,  and  he  then  insisted  that  the  governor  should 
accompany  him  to  the  prisoner's  cell.  That  worthy 
functionary  was  not  very  well  pleased  with  the  change  in 
the  usual  order  of  things.  "  What  do  you  wish  to  show 
me  ?  "  he  asked.  "  What  is  there  so  very  curious  to  see  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  nothing,"  replied  Lecoq,  "  but  perhaps  some- 
thing of  great  importance." 

Eleven  o'clock  sounding  soon  after,  he  began  singing 
the  prisoner's  song,  and  he  had  scarcely  finished  the 
second  line,  when  a  bit  of  bread,  no  larger  than  a  bullet, 
adroitly  thrown  through  the  window,  dropped  at  his  feet. 

A  thunderbolt  falling  in  May's  cell  would  not  have 
terrified  the  governor  as  much  as  did  this  inoffensive  pro- 
jectile. He  stood  in  silent  dismay  ;  his  mouth  wide  open, 
his  eyes  starting  from  their  sockets,  as  if  he  distrusted 
the  evidence  of  his  own  senses.  What  a  disgrace  !  An 
instant  before  he  would  have  staked  his  life  upon  the 
inviolability  of  the  secret  cells ;  and  now  he  beheld  his 
prison  dishonoured. 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  191 

*  A  communication  !  a  communication !  "  he  repeated, 
with  a  horrified  air. 

Quick  as  lightning,  Lecoq  picked  up  the  missile.  "  Ah," 
murmured  he,  "  I  guessed  that  this  man  was  in  communi- 
cation with  his  friends." 

The  young  detective's  evident  delight  changed  the  gov- 
ernor's stupor  into  fury.  "  Ah  !  my  prisoners  are  writing  !  " 
he  exclaimed,  wild  with  passion.  "  My  warders  are  acting 
as  postmen  !  By  my  faith,  this  matter  shall  be  looked 
into." 

So  saying,  he  was  about  to  rush  to  the  door  when 
Lecoq  stopped  him.  "  What  are  you  going  to  do,  sir  ? " 
he  asked. 

"  I  am  going  to  call  all  the  employes  of  this  prison  to- 
gether, and  inform  them  that  there  is  a  traitor  amongst 
them,  and  that  I  must  know  who  he  is,  as  I  wish  to  make 
an  example  of  him.  And  if,  in  twenty-four  hours  from 
now,  the  culprit  has  not  been  discovered,  every  man  con- 
nected with  this  prison  shall  be  removed." 

Again  he  started  to  leave  the  room,  and  Lecoq,  this 
'jme,  had  almost  to  use  force  to  detain  him.  "  Be  calm, 
sir  ;  be  calm,"  he  entreated. 

"  I  will  punish— 

"  Yes,  yes — I  understand  that — but  wait  until  you  have 
regained  your  self-possession.  It  is  quite  possible  that 
the  guilty  party  may  be  one  of  the  prisoners  who  assist  in 
the  distribution  of  food  every  morning." 

"  What  does  that  matter  ?  " 

"  Excuse  me,  but  it  matters  a  great  deal.  If  you  noise 
this  discovery  abroad,  we  shall  never  discover  the  truth. 
The  traitor  will  not  be  fool  enough  to  confess  his  guilt. 
We  must  be  silent  and  wait.  We  will  keep  a  close  watch 
and  detect  the  culprit  in  the  very  act." 

These  objections  were  so  sensible  that  the  governor 
yielded.  "  So  be  it,"  he  sighed,  "  I  will  try  and  be  patient. 
But  let  me  see  the  missive  that  was  enclosed  in  this  bit  of 
bread." 

Lecoq  could  not  consent  to  this  proposal.  "  I  warned 
M.  Segmuller,"  said  he,  "  that  there  would  probably  be 
something  new  this  morning ;  and  he  will  be  waiting  for 
me  in  his  office.  We  must  only  examine  the  letter  in  his 
presence  ? " 

This  remark  was  so  correct  that  the  governor  assented  { 


19*  MONSIEUR  LECO& 

and  they  at  once  started  for  the  Palais  de  Justice.  On  theii 
way,  Lecoq  endeavored  to  convince  his  companion  that  it 
was  wrong  to  deplore  a  circumstance  which  might  be  of 
incalculable  benefit  to  the  prosecution.  "  It  was  an  illu- 
sion," said  he,  "  to  imagine  that  the  governor  of  a  prison 
could  be  more  cunning  than  the  prisoners  intrusted  to  him. 
A  prisoner  is  almost  always  a  match  in  ingenuity  for  his 
custodians." 

The  young  detective  had  not  finished  speaking  when  they 
reached  the  magistrate's  office.  Scarcely  had  Lecoq  opened 
the  door  than  M.  Segmuller  and  his  clerk  rose  from  their 
seats.  They  both  read  important  intelligence  in  our  hero's 
troubled  face.  "  What  is  it  ?  "  eagerly  asked  the  magistrate. 
Lecoq's  sole  response  was  to  lay  the  pellet  of  bread  upon 
M.  Segmuller's  desk.  In  an  instant,  the  magistrate  had 
opened  it,  extracting  from  the  centre  a  tiny  slip  of  the 
thinnest  tissue  paper.  This  he  unfolded,  and  smoothed 
upon  the  palm  of  his  hand.  As  soon  as  he  glanced  at  it, 
his  brow  contracted.  "  Ah  !  this  note  is  written  in  cipher," 
he  exclaimed,  with  a  disappointed  air. 

"  We  must  not  lose  patience,"  said  Lecoq  quietly.  He 
took  the  slip  of  paper  from  the  magistrate  and  read  the 
numbers  inscribed  upon  it.  They  ran  as  follows :  "  235, 
i5>  3»  8,  25,  2,  16,  208,  5,  360,  4,  36,  19,  7,  14,  118,84,  23, 
9,  40,  u,  99." 

"And  so  we  shall  learn  nothing  from  this  note,"  mur- 
mured the  governor. 

"  Why  not,"  the  smiling  clerk  ventured  to  remark.  "  There 
is  no  system  of  cipher  which  cannot  be  read  with  a  little 
skill  and  patience  ;  there  are  some  people  who  make  it 
their  business." 

"You  are  right,"  said  Lecoq,  approvingly.  "And  I, 
myself,  once  had  the  knack  of  it." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  the  magistrate  ;  "  do  you  hope  to 
find  the  key  to  this  cipher  ?  " 

"  With  time,  yes." 

Lecoq  was  about  to  place  the  paper  in  his  breast-pocket, 
when  the  magistrate  begged  him  to  examine  it  a  little 
further.  He  did  so ;  and  after  a  while,  his  face  suddenly 
brightened.  Striking  his  forehead  with  his  open  palm,  he 
cried  :  "  I've  found  it !  " 

An  exclamation  of  incredulous  surprise  simultaneously 
escaped  the  magistrate,  the  governor,  and  the  clerk. 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  193 

"  At  least  I  think  so,"  added  Lecoq,  more  cautiously. 
u  If  I  am  not  mistaken  the  prisoner  and  his  accomplice 
have  adopted  a  very  simple  system  called  the  double  book- 
cipher.  The  correspondents  first  agree  upon  some  partic- 
ular book ;  and  both  obtain  a  copy  of  the  same  edition. 
When  one  desires  to  communicate  with  the  other,  he  opens 
the  book  hap-hazard,  and  begins  by  writing  the  number  of 
the  page.  Then  he  must  find  on  the  same  page  the  words 
that  will  express  his  thoughts.  If  the  first  word  he  wishes 
to  write  is  the  twentieth  on  the  page,  he  places  number  20 
after  the  number  of  the  page  ;  then  he  begins  to  count  one, 
two,  three,  and  so  on,  until  he  finds  the  next  word  he  wishes 
to  use.  If  this  word  happens  to  be  the  sixth,  he  writes  the 
figure  6 ;  and  he  continues  so  on  till  he  has  finished  his 
letter.  You  see,  now,  how  the  correspondent  who  receives 
the  note,  must  begin.  He  finds  the  page  indicated,  and 
then  each  figure  represents  a  word." 

"  Nothing  could  be  clearer,"  said  the  magistrate,  approv- 
ingly. 

"  If  this  note,"  pursued  Lecoq,  "  had  been  exchanged 
between  two  person  sat  liberty,  it  would  be  folly  to  attempt 
its  translation.  This  simple  system  is  the  only  one  which 
has  completely  baffled  inquisitive  efforts,  simply  because 
there  is  no  way  of  ascertaining  the  book  agreed  upon.  But 
in  this  instance  such  is  not  the  case  ;  May  is  a  prisoner, 
and  he  has  only  one  book  in  his  possession.  '  The  Songs 
of  Beranger.'  Let  this  book  be  sent  for " 

The  governor  of  the  Depot  was  actually  enthusiastic. 
"  I  will  run  and  fetch  it  myself,"  he  interrupted. 

But  Lecoq,  with  a  gesture,  detained  him.  "  Above  all, 
sir,"  said  he,  "  take  care  that  May  doesn't  discover  his 
book  has  been  tampered  with.  If  he  has  returned  from 
his  promenade,  make  some  excuse  to  have  him  sent  out 
of  his  cell  again  ;  and  don't  allow  him  to  return  there  while 
we  are  using  his  book." 

"  Oh,  trust  me  !  "  replied  the  governor,  hastily  leaving 
the  room. 

Less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour  afterwards  he  returned, 
carrying  in  triumph  a  little  volume  in  32mo.  With  a  trembling 
hand  Lecoq  turned  to  page  235,  and  began  to  count.  The 
fifteenth  word  on  the  page  was  '  /,• '  the  third  afterwards, 
'  have ; '  the  eighth  following, '  told; '  the  twenty-fifth,  '  her ;' 
the  second,  'your;'  the  sixteenth,  'wishes*  Hence,  tho 


194  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

meaning  of  those  six  numbers  was :  "  I  have  told  heryoui 
wishes." 

The  three  persons  who  had  witnessed  this  display  ol 
shrewdness  could  not  restrain  their  admiration.  "  Bravo  ! 
Lecoq,"  exclaimed  the  magistrate.  "  I  will  no  longer  bet 
a  hundred  to  one  on  May,"  thought  the  smiling  clerk. 

But  Lecoq  was  still  busily  engaged  in  deciphering  the 
missive,  and  soon  in  a  voice  trembling  with  gratified  vanity? 
he  read  the  entire  note  aloud.  It  ran  as  follows:  "  I  have 
told  her  your  wishes ;  she  submits.  Our  safety  is  assured  ; 
we  are  waiting  your  orders  to  act.  Hope  1  Courage  !  * 


XIX. 

YET  what  a  disappointment  it  produced,  after  the  fever 
of  anxiety  and  expectation  that  had  seized  hold  of  every- 
body present.  This  strange  epistle  furnished  no  clue 
whatever  to  the  mystery ;  and  the  ray  of  hope  that  had 
sparkled  for  an  instant  in  M.  Segmuller's  eyes  speedily 
faded  away.  As  for  the  versatile  Goguet  he  returned  with 
increased  conviction  to  his  former  opinion,  that  the  prisoner 
had  the  advantage  over  his  accusers. 

"  How  unfortunate,"  remarked  the  governor  of  the  Depot, 
with  a  shade  of  sarcasm  in  his  voice,  "  that  so  much  trouble, 
and  such  marvellous  penetration,  should  be  wasted  !  " 

"  So  you  think,  sir,  that  I  have  wasted  my  time  !  "  rejoined 
Lecoq  in  a  tone  of  angry  banter,  a  scarlet  flush  mantling 
at  the  same  time  over  his  features.  "  Such  is  not  my 
opinion.  This  scrap  of  paper  undeniably  proves  that  if 
any  one  has  been  mistaken  as  regards  the  prisoner's  iden- 
tity, it  is  certainly  not  I." 

'"•  Very  well,"  was  the  reply.  "  M.  Gevrol  and  myself 
may  have  been  mistaken  :  no  one  is  infallible.  But  have 
you  learned  anything  more  than  you  knew  before  ?  Have 
you  made  any  progress  ? " 

"  Why,  yes.  Now  that  people  know  the  prisoner  is 
not  what  he  pretends  to  be,  instead  of  annoying  and 
hampering  me,  perhaps  they  will  assist  us  to  discover 
who  he  really  is." 

Lecoq's  tone,  and  his  allusion  to  the  difficulties  he  had 
encountered,  cut  the  governor  to  the  quick.  The  knowl- 
edge that  the  reproof  was  not  altogether  undeserved, 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  195 

increased  his  resentment  and  determined  him  to  bring 
this  discussion  with  an  inferior  to  an  abrupt  close.  "  You 
are  right,"  said  he,  sarcastically.  "This  May  must  be  a 
very  great  and  illustrious  personage.  Only,  my  dear 
Monsieur  Lecoq  (for  there  is  an  only),  do  me  the  favour 
to  explain  how  such  an  important  personage  could  dis- 
appear, and  the  police  not  be  advised  of  it  ?  A  man  of 
rank,  such  as  you  suppose  this  prisoner  to  be,  usually 
has  a  family,  friends,  relatives,  proteges,  and  numerous 
connections ;  and  yet  not  a  single  person  has  made  any 
enquiry  during  the  three  weeks  that  this  fellow  May  has 
been  under  my  charge !  Come,  admit  you  never  thought 
of  that." 

The  governor  had  just  advanced  the  only  serious  ob- 
jection that  could  be  found  to  the  theory  adopted  by  the 
prosecution.  He  was  wrong  however,  in  supposing  that 
Lecoq  had  failed  to  foresee  it ;  for  it  had  never  once 
been  out  of  the  young  detective's  mind;  and  he  had 
racked  his  brain  again  and  again  to  find  some  satisfactory 
explanation.  At  the  present  moment  he  would  undoubt- 
edly have  made  some  angry  retort  to  the  governor's 
sneering  criticism,  as  people  are  wont  to  do  when  their 
antagonists  discover  the  weak  spot  in  their  armour,  had 
not  M.  Segmuller  opportunely  intervened. 

"  All  these  recriminations  do  no  good,"  he  remarked, 
calmly ;  "  we  can  make  no  progress  while  they  continue. 
It  would  be  much  wiser  to  decide  upon  the  course  that  is 
now  to  be  pursued." 

Thus  reminded  of  the  present  situation  of  affairs,  the 
young  detective  smiled ,  all  his  rancour  was  forgotten. 
"  There  is  I  think,  but  one  course  to  pursue,"  he  replied 
in  a  modest  tone;  "and  I  believe  it  will  be  successful  by 
reason  of  its  simplicity.  We  must  substitute  a  com- 
munication of  our  own  composition  for  this  one.  That 
will  not  be  at  all  difficult,  since  I  have  the  key  to  the 
cipher.  I  shall  only  be  obliged  to  purchase  a  similar 
volume  of  Beranger's  songs  ;  and  May,  believing  that  he 
is  addressing  his  accomplice,  will  reply  in  all  sincerity, — 
will  reveal  everything  perhaps " 

"  Excuse  me !  "  interrupted  the  governor,  "  but  how 
will  you  obtain  possession  of  his  reply  ?  " 

"  Ah  1  you  ask  me  too  much,     I  know  the  way  in  which 


196  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

his  letters  have  reached  him.  For  the  rest,  I  will  watch 
and  find  a  way — never  fear !  " 

Goguet,  the  smiling  clerk,  could  not  conceal  an  approv- 
ing grin.  If  he  had  happened  to  have  ten  francs  in  his 
pocket  just  then,  he  would  have  risked  them  all  on  Lecoq, 
without  a  moment's  hesitation. 

"  First,"  resumed  the  young  detective,  "  I  will  replace 
this  missive  by  one  of  my  own  composition.  To-morrow, 
at  breakfast-time,  if  the  prisoner  gives  the  signal,  Father 
Absinthe  shall  throw  the  morsel  of  bread  enclosing  my 
note  through  the  window,  while  I  watch  the  effect,  through 
the  hole  in  the  ceiling  of  the  cell." 

Lecoq  was  so  delighted  with  this  plan  of  his,  that  he 
at  once  rang  the  bell,  and  when  the  magistrate's  messen- 
ger appeared,  he  gave  him  half-a-franc  and  requested  him 
to  go  at  once  and  purchase  some  of  the  thinnest  tissue 
paper.  When  this  had  been  procured,  Lecoq  took  his 
seat  at  the  clerk's  desk,  and  provided  with  the  volume  of 
Beranger's  songs,  began  to  compose  a  fresh  note,  copying 
as  closely  as  possible  the  forms  of  the  figures  used  by 
the  unknown  correspondent.  The  task  did  not  occupy  him 
more  than  ten  minutes,  for,  fearing  lest  he  might  commit 
some  blunder,  he  reproduced  most  of  the  words  of  the  origi- 
nal letter,  giving  them  however  an  entirely  different  mean- 
ing. When  completed,  his  note  read  as  follows  :  "  I  have 
told  her  your  wishes ;  she  does  not  submit.  Our  safety  is 
threatened.  We  are  awaiting  your  orders.  I  tremble." 

Having  acquainted  the  magistrate  with  the  purport  of 
the  note,  Lecoq  next  rolled  up  the  paper,  and  enclosing 
it  in  the  fragment  of  bread,  remarked  :  "  To-morrow  we 
shall  learn  something  new." 

To-morrow !  The  twenty-four  hours  that  separated  the 
young  man  from  the  decisive  moment,  he  looked  forward 
to,  seemed  as  it  were  a  century ;  and  he  resorted  to  every 
possible  expedient  to  hasten  the  passing  of  the  time.  At 
length,  after  giving  precise  instructions  to  Father  Ab- 
sinthe, he  retired  to  his  V>ft  for  the  night.  The  hours 
seemed  interminable  and  such  was  his  nervous  excitement 
that  he  found  it  quite  impossible  to  sleep.  On  rising  at 
daybreak  he  discovered  that  the  prisoner  was  already 
awake.  May  was  sitting  on  the  foot  of  his  bed,  apparently 
plunged  in  thought.  Suddenly  he  sprang  to  his  feet 
and  paced  restlessly  to  and  fro.  He  was  evidently  in  an 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  197 

unusually  agitated  frame  of  mind :  for  he  gesticulated 
wildly,  and  at  intervals  repeated:  "What  misery!  My 
God  1  what  misery  !  " 

"  Ah  !  my  fine  fellow,"  thought  Lecoq,  "  you  are  anxious 
about  the  daily  letter  you  failed  to  receive  yesterday. 
Patience,  patience  !  One  of  my  writing  will  soon  arrive." 

At  last  the  young  detective  heard  the  stir  usually  pre- 
ceding the  distribution  of  food.  People  were  running  to 
and  fro,  sabots  clicked  noisily  in  the  corridors,  and  the 
keepers  could  be  heard  engaged  in  loud  conversation. 
By-and-bye,  the  prison  bell  began  to  toll.  It  was  eleven 
o'clock,  and  soon  afterwards  the  prisoner  commenced  to 
sing  his  favourite  song  : — 

"  Diogene ! 

Sous  ton  manteau  libre  et  content " 

Before  he  commenced  the  third  line  ;  the  slight  sound 
caused  by  the  fragment  of  bread  as  it  fell  upon  the  stone 
floor,  caused  him  to  pause  abruptly. 

Lecoq,  at  the  opening  in  the  ceiling  above,  was  holding 
his  breath,  and  watching  with  both  eyes.  He  did  not 
miss  one  of  the  prisoner's  movements — not  so  much  as 
the  quiver  of  an  eyelid.  May  looked  first  at  the  window, 
and  then  all  round  the  cell,  as  if  it  were  impossible  for 
him  to  explain  the  arrival  of  this  projectile.  It  was  not 
until  some  little  time  had  elapsed  that  he  decided  to  pick 
it  up.  He  held  it  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  and  examined 
it  with  apparent  curiosity.  His  features  expressed  intense 
surprise,  and  any  one  would  have  sworn  that  he  was  inno- 
cent of  all  complicity.  Soon  a  smile  gathered  round  his 
lips,  and  after  a  slight  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  which 
might  be  interpreted  :  "  Am  I  a  fool  ? "  he  hastily  broke 
the  pellet  in  half.  The  sight  of  the  paper  which  it  con- 
tained seemed  to  amaze  him. 

"  What  does  all  this  mean  ? "  wondered  Lecoq. 

The  prisoner  had  opened  the  note,  and  was  examining, 
with  knitted  brows,  the  figures  which  were  apparently 
destitute  of  all  meaning  to  him.  Then,  suddenly  rushing 
to  the  door  of  his  cell,  and,  hammering  upon  it  with 
clenched  fists,  he  cried  at  the  top  of  his  voice  : — "  Here ! 
keeper  !  here !  " 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  shouted  a  turnkey,  whose  foot 


198  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

steps  Lecoq  could  hear  hastening  along  the  adjoining 
passage. 

"  I  wish  to  speak  to  the  magistrate." 

"Very  well.     He  shall  be  informed." 

"  Immediately,  if  you  please.  I  have  a  revelation  to 
make." 

"  He  shall  be  sent  for  immediately." 

Lecoq  watted  to  hear  no  more.  He  tore  down  the  nar- 
row staircase  leading  from  the  loft,  and  rushed  to  the 
Palais  de  Justice  to  acquaint  M.  Segmuller  with  what  had 
happened. 

"  What  can  all  this  mean  ?  "  he  wondered,  as  he  darted 
over  the  pavement.  "  Are  we  indeed  approaching  a  de- 
nouement ?  This  much  is  certain,  the  prisoner  was  not  de- 
ceived by  my  note.  He  could  only  decipher  it  with  the 
aid  of  his  volume  of  '  Beranger ; '  and  he  did  not  even  touch 
the  book ;  plainly  then  he  hasn't  read  the  letter." 

M.  Segmuller  was  no  less  amazed  than  the  young  detec- 
tive. They  both  hastened  to  the  prison,  followed  by  the 
smiling  clerk,  who  was  the  magistrate's  inevitable  shadow. 
On  their  way  they  encountered  the  governor  of  the  Depot, 
arriving  all  in  a  flutter  having  been  greatly  excited  by 
that  important  word,  "revelation."  The  worthy  official 
undoubtedly  wished  to  express  an  opinion  ;  but  the  mag- 
istrate checked  him  by  the  abrupt  remark.  "  I  know  air 
about  it ;  and  I  am  coming." 

When  they  had  reached  the  narrow  corridor  leading  to 
the  secret  cells,  Lecoq  passed  on  in  advance  of  the  rest 
of  the  party.  He  said  to  himself  that  by  stealing  upon 
the  prisoner  unawares,  he  might  possibly  ftnd  him  engaged 
in  surreptitiously  reading  the  note.  In  any  case,  he 
would  have  an  opportunity  to  glance  at  the  interior  of 
the  cell.  May  was  seated  beside  the  table,  his  head 
resting  on  his  hands.  At  the  grating  of  the  bolt,  drawn  by 
the  governor  himself,  the  prisoner  rose  to  his  feet, 
smoothed  his  hair,  and  remained  standing  in  a  respectful 
attitude,  apparently  waiting  for  the  visitors  to  address 
him. 

"  Did  you  send  for  me  ?  "  inquired  the  magistrate. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  You  have,  I  understand,  some  revelation  to  make  to 
me." 

"  I  have  something  of  importance  to  tell  you," 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  199 

"  Very  well !   these  gentlemen  will  retire." 

M.  Segmuller  had  already  turned  to  Lecoq  and  the 
governor  to  request  them  to  withdraw,  when  the  prisoner 
motioned  him  not  to  do  so. 

"  It  is  not  necessary,"  said  May,  "  I  am,  on  the  con- 
trary, very  well  pleased  to  speak  before  these  gentle- 
men." 

"  Speak,  then." 

May  did  not  wait  for  the  injunction  to  be  repeated. 
Throwing  his  chest  forward,  and  his  head  back  as  had 
been  his  wont  throughout  his  examinations,  whenever  he 
wished  to  make  an  oratorical  display,  he  began  as  follows ; 
"  It  shall  be  for  you  to  say,  gentlemen,  whether  I'm  an 
honest  man  or  not.  The  profession  matters  little.  One 
may,  perhaps,  act  as  the  clown  of  a  traveling  show,  and 
yet  be  an  honest  man — a  man  of  honour." 

"  Oh,  spare  us  your  reflections  !  " 

"  Very  well,  sir,  that  suits  me  exactly.  To  be  brief, 
then,  here  is  a  little  paper  which  was  thrown  into  my  cell 
a  few  minutes  ago.  There  are  some  numbers  on  it  which 
may  mean  something  ;  but  I  have  examined  them,  and 
they  are  quite  Greek  to  me." 

He  paused,  and  then  handing  Lecoq's  missive  to  the 
magistrate,  quietly  added  :  "  It  was  rolled  up  in  a  bit  of 
bread." 

This  declaration  was  so  unexpected,  that  it  struck  all 
the  officials  dumb  with  surprise,  but  the  prisoner,  without 
seeming  to  notice  the  effect  he  had  produced,  placidly 
continued  :  "  I  suppose  the  person  who  threw  it,  made  a 
mistake  in  the  window.  I  know  very  well  that  it's  a 
mean  piece  of  business  to  denounce  a  companion  in 
prison.  It's  a  cowardly  act  and  one  may  get  into  trouble 
by  doing  so  :  still,  a  fellow  must  be  prudent  when  he's 
charged  with  murder  as  I  am,  and  with  something  very 
unpleasant  perhaps  in  store  for  him." 

A  terribly  significant  gesture  of  severing  the  head  from 
the  body  left  no  doubt  whatever  as  to  what  May  meant  by 
the  "  something  very  unpleasant." 

"  And  yet  I  am  innocent,"  continued  May,  in  a  sorrow- 
ful, reproachful  tone. 

The  magistrate  had  by  this  time,  recovered  the  full  pos- 
session of  his  faculties.  Fixing  his  eyes  upon  the  prisoner 
concentrating  in  one  magnetic  glance  all  his  power  of 


200  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

will,  he  slowly  exclaimed  :  "  You  speak  falsely !  It  was 
for  you  that  this  note  was  intended." 

"  For  me !  Then  I  must  be  the  greatest  of  fools,  or 
why  should  I  have  sent  for  you  to  show  it  you  ?  For  me  ? 
In  that  case,  why  didn't  I  keep  it  ?  Who  knew,  who 
could  know  that  I  had  received  it  ?  " 

These  words  were  uttered  with  such  a  marvellous  sem- 
blance of  honesty,  May's  gaze  was  frank  and  open,  his 
voice  rang  so  true,  and  his  reasoning  was  so  specious,  that 
all  the  governor's  doubts  returned. 

"  And  what  if  I  could  prove  that  you  are  uttering  a 
falsehood  ? "  insisted  M.  Segmuller.  "  What  if  I  could 
prove  it — here  and  now  ?  " 

"  You  would  have  to  lie  to  do  so  !  Oh !  pardon !  Excuse 
me  ;  I  mean " 

But  the  magistrate  was  not  in  a  frame  of  mind  to  stickle 
for  nicety  of  expression.  He  motioned  May  to  be  silent ; 
and,  turning  to  7  ecoq,  exclaimed :  "  Show  the  prisoner 
that  you  discovered  the  key  to  his  secret  correspon- 
dence." 

A  sudden  c*iange  passed  over  May's  features.  "  Ah  ! 
it  is  this  age^l  of  police  who  says  the  letter  was  for  me," 
he  remarked  in  an  altered  tone.  *'  The  same  agent  who 
asserts  that  1  am  a  grand  seigneur."  Then,  looking  dis- 
dainfully *t  Lecoq,  he  added  :  "  Under  these  circum- 
stances there's  no  hope  for  me.  When  the  police  are 
absolute'/  determined  that  a  man  shall  be  found  guilty, 
they  contrive  to  prove  his  guilt :  everybody  knows  that. 
And  when  a  prisoner  receives  no  letters,  an  agent,  who 
wishes  to  show  that  he  is  corresponding  knows  well 
enough  how  to  write  to  him." 

May's  features  wore  such  an  expression  of  marked  con- 
tempt that  Lecoq  could  scarcely  refrain  from  making  an 
angry  reply.  He  restrained  his  impulse,  however,  in 
obedience  to  a  warning  gesture  from  the  magistrate,  and 
taking  from  the  table  the  volume  of  Beranger's  songs,  he 
endeavoured  to  prove  to  the  prisoner  that  each  number  in 
the  note  which  he  had  shown  M.  Segmuller  corresponded 
with  a  word  on  the  page  indicated,  and  that  these  various 
words  formed  several  intelligible  phrases.  This  over- 
powering evidence  did  not  seem  to  trouble  May  in  the 
least.  After  expressing  the  same  admiration  for  this  novel 
system  of  correspondence  that  a  child  would  show  for  a 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  201 

new  toy,  he  declared  his  belief  that  no  one  could  equal 
the  police  in  such  machinations. 

What  could  have  been  done  in  the  face  of  such  obsti- 
nacy ?  M.  Segmuller  did  not  even  attempt  to  argue  the 
point,  but  quietly  retired,  followed  by  his  companions. 
Until  they  reached  the  governor's  office,  he  did  not  utter 
a. word ;  then,  sinking  down  into  an  arm  chair,  he  ex- 
claimed :  "  We  must  confess  ourselves  beaten.  This  man 
will  always  remain  what  he  is — an  inexplicable  enigma." 

"  But  what  is  the  meaning  of  the  comedy  he  has  just 
played  ?  I  do  not  understand  it  at  all,"  remarked  the 
governor. 

"  Why,"  replied  Lecoq,  "  don't  you  see  that  he  wished  to 
persuade  the  magistrate  that  the  first  note,  the  one  that 
fell  into  the  cell  while  you  and  I  were  there  yesterday,  had 
been  written  by  me  in  a  mad  desire  to  prove  the  truth  of 
my  theory  at  any  cost  ?  It  was  a  hazardous  project ;  but 
the  importance  of  the  result  to  be  gained  must  have  em- 
boldened him  to  attempt  it.  Had  he  succeeded,  I  should 
have  been  disgraced ;  and  he  would  have  remained  May — 
the  stroller,  without  any  further  doubt  as  to  his  identity. 
But  how  could  he  know  that  I  had  discovered  his  secret 
correspondence,  and  that  I  was  watching  him  from  the 
loft  overhead  ?  That  will  probably  never  be  explained." 

The  governor  and  the  young  detective  exchanged  glances 
of  mutual  distrust.  "  Eh  !  eh ! "  thought  the  former, 
"yes,  indeed,  that  note  which  fell  into  the  cell  while  I  was 
there  the  other  day  might  after  all  have  been  this  crafty 
fellow's  work.  His  Father  Absinthe  may  have  served 
him  in  the  first  instance  just  as  he  did  subsequently." 

While  these  reflections  were  flitting  through  the  gov- 
ernor's mind,  Lecoq  suspiciously  remarked  to  himself : 
"  Who  knows  but  what  this  fool  of  a  governor  confided 
everything  to  Gevrol  ?  If  he  did  so,  the  General, 
jealous  as  he  is,  would  not  have  scrupled  to  play  one  such 
a  damaging  trick." 

His  thoughts  had  gone  no  further  when  Goguet,  the 
smiling  clerk,  boldly  broke  the  silence  with  the  trite  re- 
mark :  "  What  a  pity  such  a  clever  comedy  didn't 
succeed." 

These  words  startled  the  magistrate  from  his  reverie. 
"  Yes,  a  shameful  farce,"  said  he,  "  and  one  I  would  never 
have  authorised,  had  I  not  been  blinded  by  a  mad 


202  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

ing  to  arrive  at  the  truth.  Such  tricks  only  bring  the  sa- 
cred majesty  of  justice-  into  contempt ! " 

At  these  bitter  words,  Lecoq  turned  white  with  anger. 
This  was  the  second  affront  within  an  hour.  The  prisoner 
had  first  insulted  him,  and  now  it  was  the  magistrate's 
turn.  "  I  am  defeated,"  thought  he.  "  I  must  confess  it. 
Fate  is  against  me  !  Ah  !  if  I  had  only  succeeded !  " 

Disappointment  alone  had  impelled  M.  Segmuller  to 
utter  these  harsh  words ;  they  were  both  cruel  and  unjust, 
and  the  magistrate  soon  regretted  them,  and  did  every- 
thing in  his  power  to  drive  them  from  Lecoq's  recollection. 
They  met  every  day  after  this  unfortunate  incident ;  and 
every  morning,  when  the  young  detective  came  to  give  an 
account  of  his  investigations,  they  had  a  long  conference 
together.  For  Lecoq  still  continued  his  efforts;  still 
laboured  on  with  an  obstinacy  intensified  by  constant 
sneers  ;  still  pursued  his  investigations  with  that  cold  and 
determined  zeal  which  keeps  one's  faculties  on  the  alert 
for  years. 

The  magistrate,  however,  was  utterly  discouraged. 
"  We  must  abandon  this  attempt,"'  said  he.  "  All  the 
means  of  detection  have  been  exhausted.  I  give  it  up. 
The  prisoner  will  go  to  the  Assizes,  to  be  acquitted  or 
condemned  under  the  name  of  May.  I  will  trouble  my- 
self no  more  about  the  matter." 

He  said  this,  but  the  anxiety  and  disappointment  caused 
by  defeat,  sneering  criticism  and  perplexity,  as  to  the  best 
course  to  be  pursued,  so  affected  his  health  that  he  became 
really  ill — so  ill  that  he  had  to  take  to  his  bed. 

He  had  been  confined  to  his  room  for  a  week  or  so, 
when  one  morning  Lecoq  called  to  inquire  after  him. 

"  You  see,  my  good  fellow,"  quoth  M.  Segmuller,  de- 
spondently, "  that  this  mysterious  murderer  is  fatal  to  us 
magistrates.  Ah !  he  is  too  much  for  us ;  he  will  preserve 
the  secret  of  his  identity." 

"  Possibly,"  replied  Lecoq.  "  At  all  events,  there  is 
now  but  one  way  left  to  discover  his  secret :  we  must  allow 
him  to  escape — and  then  track  him  to  his  lair." 

This  expedient,  although  at  first  sight  a  very  startling 
one,  was  not  of  Lecoq's  own  invention,  nor  was  it  by  any 
means  novel.  At  all  times,  in  cases  of  necessity,  have  the 
police  closed  their  eyes  and  opened  the  prison  doors  for 
the  release  of  suspected  criminals.  And  not  a  few,  dazzled 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  203 

by  liberty  and  ignorant  of  being  watched,  have  foolishly 
betrayed  themselves.  All  prisoners  are  not  like  the  Mar- 
quis de  Lavalette,  protected  by  royal  connivance ;  and  one 
might  enumerate  many  individuals  who  have  been  re- 
leased, only  to  be  re-arrested  after  confessing  their  guilt 
to  police  spies  or  auxiliaries  who  have  won  their  confi- 
dence. 

Naturally,  however,  it  is  but  seldom,  and  only  in  special 
cases,  and  as  a  last  resort,  that  such  a  plan  is  adopted. 
Moreover,  the  authorities  only  consent  to  it  when  they 
hope  to  derive  some  important  advantage,  such  as  the 
capture  of  a  whole  band  of  criminals.  For  instance,  the 
police  perhaps  arrest  one  of  a  band.  Now,  despite  his 
criminal  propensities  the  captured  culprit  often  has  a  cer- 
tain sense  of  honour — we  all  know  that  there  is  honour 
among  thieves — which  prompts  him  to  refuse  all  informa- 
tion concerning  his  accomplices.  In  such  a  case  what  is 
to  be  done  ?  Is  he  to  be  sent  to  the  Assizes  by  himself, 
tried  and  convicted,  while  his  comrades  escape  scot  free  ? 
No :  it  is  best  to  set  him  at  liberty.  The  prison  doors  are 
opened,  and  he  is  told  that  he  is  free.  But  each  after  step 
he  takes  in  the  streets  outside  is  dogged  by  skilful  de- 
tectives ;  and  soon,  at  the  very  moment  when  he  is  boast- 
ing of  his  good  luck  and  audacity  to  the  comrades  he  has 
rejoined,  the  whole  gang  find  themselves  caught  in  the 
snare. 

M.  Segmuller  knew  all  this,  and  much  more,  and  yet, 
on  hearing  Lecoq's  proposition,  he  made  an  angry  ges- 
ture and  exclaimed :  "  Are  you  mad  ?  " 

"  I  think  not,  sir  " 

"  At  all  events  your  scheme  is  a  most  foolish  one  !  " 

"  Why  so,  sir  ?  You  will  recollect  the  famous  murder 
of  the  Chaboiseaus.  The  police  soon  succeeded  in  cap- 
turing the  guilty  parties  ;  but  a  robbery  of  a  hundred  and 
sixty  thousand  francs  in  bank-notes  and  coin  had  been 
committed  at  the  same  time,  and  this  large  sum  of  money 
couldn't  be  found.  The  murderers  obstinately  refused  to 
say  where  they  had  concealed  it ;  for,  of  course,  it  would 
prove  a  fortune  for  them,  if  they  ever  escaped  the  gallows. 
In  the  meanwhile,  however,  the  children  of  the  victims 
were  ruined.  Now,  M.  Patrigent,  the  magistrate  who  in- 
vestigated the  affair,  was  the  first  to  convince  the  author- 
ities that  it  would  be  best  to  set  one  of  the  murderers  at 


204  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

liberty.  His  advice  was  followed ;  and  three  days  latel 
the  culprit  was  surprised  unearthing  the  money  from 
among  a  bed  of  mushrooms.  Now,  I  believe  that  our 
prisoner — " 

"  Enough  !  "  interrupted  M.  Segmuller.  "  I  wish  to 
hear  no  more  on  the  matter.  I  have,  it  seems  to  me,  for- 
bidden you  to  broach  the  subject." 

The  young  detective  hung  his  head  with  a  hypocritical 
air  of  submission.  But  all  the  while  he  watched  the  mag- 
istrate out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  and  noted  his  agitation. 
"  I  can  afford  to  be  silent,"  he  thought :  "  he  will  return  to 
the  subject  of  his  own  accord." 

And  in  fact  M.  Segmuller  did  return  to  it  only  a  mo- 
ment afterwards.  "  Suppose  this  man  were  released  from 
prison,"  said  he,  "  what  would  you  do  ? " 

"  What  would  I  do,  sir !  I  would  follow  him  like  grim 
death  :  I  would  not  once  let  him  out  of  my  sight ;  I  would 
be  his  shadow." 

"  And  do  you  suppose  he  wouldn't  discover  this  sur- 
veillance ? " 

"  I  should  take  my  precautions." 

"  But  he  would  recognize  you  at  a  single  glance." 

"  No,  sir,  he  wouldn't  for  I  should  disguise  myself.  A 
detective  who  can't  equal  the  most  skilful  actor  in  the 
matter  of  make-up  is  no  better  than  an  ordinary  policeman. 
I  have  only  practised  at  it  for  a  twelvemonth,  but  I  can 
easily  make  myself  look  old  or  young,  dark  or  light,  or 
assume  the  manner  of  a  man  of  the  world,  or  of  some 
frightful  ruffian  of  the  barrieres." 

"  I  wasn't  aware  that  you  possessed  this  talent,  Mon- 
sieur Lecoq." 

"  Oh !  I'm  very  far  from  the  prefection  I  hope  to  arrive 
at ;  though  I  may  venture  to  say  that  in  three  days  from 
now  I  could  call  on  you  and  talk  with  you  for  half-an- 
hour  without  being  recognized." 

M.  Segmuller  made  no  rejoinder;  and  it  was  evident  to 
Lecoq  that  the  magistrate  had  offered  this  objection  rather 
in  the  hope  of  its  being  overruled,  than  with  the  wish  to 
see  it  prevail. 

"  I  think,  my  poor  fellow,"  he  at  length  observed,  "  that 
you  are  strangely  deceived.  We  have  both  been  equally 
anxious  to  penetrate  the  mystery  that  enshrouds  this 
strange  man.  We  have  both  admired  his  wonderful  acute- 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  205 

ness — for  his  sagacity  is  wonderful ;  so  marvellous,  indeed, 
that  it  exceeds  the  limits  of  imagination.  Do  you  believe 
that  a  man  of  his  penetration  would  betray  himself  like  an 
ordinary  prisoner  ?  He  will  understand  at  once,  if  he  is 
set  at  liberty,  that  his  freedom  is  only  given  him  so  that  we 
may  surprise  his  secret." 

"  I  don't  deceive,  myself,  sir.  May  will  guess  the  truth 
of  course.  I'm  quite  aware  of  that." 

"  Very  well.  Then,  what  would  be  the  use  of  attempt- 
ing what  you  propose  ?  " 

"  I  have  come  to  this  conclusion,"  replied  Lecoq,  "  May 
will  find  himself  strangely  embarrassed,  even  when  he's 
set  free.  He  won't  have  a  sou  in  his  pocket ;  we  know 
he  has  no  trade,  so  what  will  he  do  to  earn  a  living  ?  He 
may  struggle  along  for  a  while ;  but  he  won't  be  willing  to 
suffer  long.  Man  must  have  food  and  shelter,  and  when 
he  finds  himself  without  a  roof  over  his  head,  without  even 
a  crust  of  bread  to  break,  he  will  remember  that  he  is 
rich.  Won't  he  then  try  to  recover  possession  of  his  prop- 
erty ?  Yes,  certainly  he  will.  He  will  try  to  obtain 
money,  endeavour  to  communicate  with  his  friends,  and  I 
shall  wait  till  that  moment  arrives.  Months  may  elapse, 
before,  seeing  no  signs  of  my  surveillance,  he  may  venture 
on  some  decisive  step;  and  then  I  will  spring  forward 
with  a  warrant  for  his  arrest  in  my  hand." 

"  And  what  if  he  should  leave  Paris  ?  What  if  he  should 
go  abroad  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  will  follow  him.  One  of  my  aunts  has  left  me 
a  little  land  in  the  provinces  worth  about  twelve  thousand 
francs.  I  will  sell  it,  and  spend  the  last  sou,  if  necessary, 
so  long  as  I  only  have  my  revenge.  This  man  has  out 
witted  me  as  if  I  were  a  child,  and  I  must  have  my  turn." 

"  And  what  if  he  should  slip  through  your  fingers  ?  " 

Lecoq  laughed  like  a  man  that  was  sure  of  himself. 
"  Let  him  try,"  he  exclaimed ;  "  I  will  answer  for  him 
with  my  life." 

"  Your  idea  is  not  a  bad  one,"  said  M.  Segmuller,  event- 
ually. "  But  you  must  understand  that  law  and  justice 
will  take  no  part  in  such  intrigues.  All  I  can  promise 
you  is  my  tacit  approval.  Go,  therefore,  to  the  Prefecture ; 
see  your  superiors — " 

With  a  really  despairing  gesture,  the  young  man  inter- 
rupted M.  Segmuller.  "  What  good  would  it  do  for  mt 


206  MONSIEUR  L£COQ. 

to  make  such  a  proposition  ? "  he  exclaimed.  "  They 
would  not  only  refuse  my  request,  but  they  would  dismiss 
me  on  the  spot,  if  my  name  is  not  already  erased  from  the 
roll." 

"  What,  dismissed,  after  conducting  this  case  so  well  ?  " 

"  Ah,  sir,  unfortunately  every  one  is  not  of  that  opinion. 
Tongues  have  been  wagging  busily  during  your  illness. 
Somehow  or  other,  my  enemies  have  heard  of  the  last 
scene  we  had  with  May ;  and  impudently  declare  that  it 
was  /,  who  imagined  all  the  romantic  details  of  this  affair, 
being  eager  for  advancement.  They  pretend  that  the 
only  reasons  to  doubt  the  prisoner's  identity  are  those  I 
have  invented  myself.  To  hear  them  talk  at  the  Depot, 
one  might  suppose  that  I  invented  the  scene  in  the  Widow 
Chupin's  cabin  ;  imagined  the  accomplices ;  suborned  the 
witnesses ;  manufactured  the  articles  of  conviction  ;  wrote 
the  first  note  in  cipher  as  well  as  the  second ;  duped 
Father  Absinthe,  and  mystified  the  governor." 

"  The  deuce  !  "  exclaimed  M.  Segmuller ;  "  in  that  case, 
what  do  they  think  of  me  ?  " 

The  wily  detective's  face  assumed  an  expression  of  in- 
tence  embarrassment. 

"  Ah !  sir,"  he  replied  with  a  great  show  of  reluctance, 
"  they  pretend  that  you  have  allowed  yourself  to  be  de- 
ceived by  me,  and  that  you  haven't  weighed  at  their  proper 
worth  the  proofs  I've  furnished." 

A  fleeting  flush  mantled  over  M.  Segmuller's  forehead. 
"  In  a  word,"  said  he,  "  they  think  I'm  your  dupe — and  a 
fool  besides." 

The  recollection  of  certain  sarcastic  smiles  he  had  often 
detected  on  the  faces  of  colleagues  and  subordinates  alike, 
the  memory  of  numerous  covert  allusions  to  Caspar 
Hauser,  and  the  Man  with  the  Iron  Mask — allusions 
which  had  stung  him  to  the  quick — induced  him  to  hesi- 
tate no  longer. 

"  Very  well !  I  will  aid  you,  Monsieur  Lecoq,"  he  ex- 
claimed. "  I  should  like  you  to  triumph  over  your  enemies. 
I  will  get  up  at  once  and  accompany  you  to  the  Palais  de 
Justice.  I  will  see  the  public  prosecutor  myself ;  I  will 
speak  to  him,  and  plead  your  case  for  you." 

Lecoq's  joy  was  intense.  Never,  no  never,  had  he 
dared  to  hope  for  such  assistance.  Ah !  after  this  he 
would  willingly  go  through  fire  on  M.  Segmuller's  behalf 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  107 

And  yet,  despite  his  inward  exultation,  he  had  sufficient 
control  over  his  feelings,  to  preserve  a  sober  face.  This 
victory  must  be  concealed  under  penalty  of  forfeiting  the 
benefits  that  might  accrue  from  it.  Certainly,  the  young 
detective  had  said  nothing  that  was  untrue ;  but  there  are 
different  ways  of  presenting  the  truth,  and  he  had,  perhaps, 
exaggerated  a  trifle  in  order  to  excite  the  magistrate's 
rancour,  and  win  his  needful  assistance. 

"  I  suppose,"  remarked  M.  Segmuller,  who  was  now 
quite  calm  again — no  outward  sign  of  wounded  vanity 
being  perceptible — "  I  suppose  you  have  decided  what 
stratagem  must  be  employed  to  lull  the  prisoner's  suspi- 
cions if  he  is  permitted  to  escape." 

"  I  must  confess,  I  haven't  given  it  a  thought,"  replied 
Lecoq.  "  Besides,  what  good  would  any  such  stratagem 
do  ?  He  knows  too  well  that  he  is  the  object  of  suspicion, 
not  to  remain  on  the  alert.  Still,  there  is  one  precaution 
which  I  believe  absolutely  necessary,  indispensable  indeed, 
if  we  wish  to  be  successful." 

"  What  precaution  do  you  mean  ?  "  inquired  the  mag- 
istrate. 

"  Well,  sir,  I  think  an  order  should  be  given  to  have 
May  transferred  to  another  prison.  It  doesn't  in  the  least 
matter  which ;  you  can  select  the  one  you  please." 

"  Why  should  we  do  that  ?  " 

"  Because,  during  the  few  days  preceding  his  release,  it 
is  absolutely  necessary  he  should  hold  no  communication 
with  his  friends  outside,  and  that  he  should  be  unable  to 
warn  his  accomplice." 

"  Then  you  think  he's  badly  guarded  where  he  is  ?  " 
inquired  M.  Segmuller  with  seeming  amazement. 

"  No,  sir,  I  did  not  say  that.  I  am  satisfied  that  since 
the  affair  of  the  cipher  note  the  governor's  vigilance  has 
been  unimpeachable.  However,  news  from  outside  cer- 
tainly reaches  the  suspected  murderer  at  the  Depot ;  we 
have  had  material  evidence — full  proof  of  that — and  be- 
sides— " 

The  young  detective  paused  in  evident  embarrassment. 
He  plainly  had  some  idea  in  his  head  to  which  he  feared 
to  give  expression. 

"  And  besides  ?  "  repeated  the  magistrate. 

"  Ah,  well,  sir  !  I  will  be  perfectly  frank  with  you.  I 
find  that  Gevrol  enjoys  too  much  liberty  at  the  Depot ;  he 


208  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

is  perfectly  at  home  there,  he  comes  and  goes  as  he  likes, 
and  no  one  ever  thinks  of  asking  what  he  is  doing,  where 
he  is  going,  or  what  he  wants.  No  pass  is  necessary  foi 
his  admission,  and  he  can  influence  the  governor  just  as 
he  likes.  Now,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  distrust  Gevrol." 

"  Oh !  Monsieur  Lecoq  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  very  well  that  it's  a  bold  accusation,  but 
a  man  is  not  master  of  his  presentiments  :  so  there  it  is,  I 
distrust  Gevrol.  Did  the  prisoner  know  that  I  was  watch- 
ing him  from  the  loft,  and  that  I  had  discovered  his  secret 
correspondence,  was  he  ignorant  of  it  ?  To  my  mind  he 
evidently  knew  everything,  as  the  last  scene  we  had  with 
him  proves." 

"  I  must  say  that's  my  own  opinion,"  interrupted  M. 
Segmuller. 

"  But  how  could  he  have  known  it  ?  "  resumed  Lecoq. 
"  He  could  not  have  discovered  it  by  himself.  I  endured 
tortures  for  a  whole  week  in  the  hope  of  solving  the  prob- 
lem. But  all  my  trouble  was  wasted.  Now  the  supposi- 
tion of  Gevrol's  intervention  would  explain  everything." 

M.  Segmuller  had  turned  pale  with  eager.  "  Ah  !  if  I 
could  really  believe  that !  "  he  exclaimed ;  "  if  I  were  sure 
of  it !  Have  you  any  proofs  ?  " 

The  young  man  shook  his  head.  "  No,"  said  he,  "  I 
haven't ;  but  even  if  my  hands  were  full  of  proofs  I  should 
not  dare  to  show  them.  I  should  ruin  my  future.  Ah,  if 
ever  I  succeed,  I  must  expect  many  such  acts  of  treachery. 
There  is  hatred  and  rivalry  in  every  profession.  And, 
mark  this,  sir — I  don't  doubt  Gevrol's  honesty.  If  a  hun- 
dred thousand  francs  were  counted  out  upon  the  table  and 
offered  to  him,  he  wouldn't  even  try  to  release  a  prisoner. 
But  he  would  rob  justice  of  a  dozen  criminals  in  the  mere 
hope  of  injuring  me,  jealous  as  he  is,  and  fearing  lest  I 
might  obtain  advancement." 

How  many  things  these  simple  words  explained.  Did  they 
not  give  the  key  to  many  and  many  an  enigma  which  jus- 
tice has  failed  to  solve,  simply  on  account  of  the  jealousy 
and  rivalry  that  animate  the  detective  force  ?  Thus  thought 
M.  Segmuller,  but  he  had  no  time  for  further  reflection. 

"  That  will  do,"  said  he,  "  go  into  the  drawing-room  for 
a  moment.  I  will  dress  and  join  you  there.  I  will  send 
for  a  cab :  for  we  must  make  haste  if  I  am  to  see  the  public 
prosecutor  to-day." 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  209 

Less  than  quarter  of  an  hour  afterwards  M.  Segmuller, 
who  usually  spent  considerable  time  over  his  toilette, 
was  dressed  and  ready  to  sta^.  He  and  Lecoq  were  just 
getting  into  the  cab  that  had  been  summoned  when  a  foot- 
man in  a  stylish  livery  was  seen  approaching. 

"  Ah !  Jean,"  exclaimed  the  magistrate,  "  How's  your 
master  ? " 

"  Improving,  sir,"  was  the  reply.  "  He  sent  me  to  ask 
how  you  were,  and  to  inquire  how  that  affair  was  progress- 
ing?" 

"  There  has  been  no  change  since  I  last  wrote  to  him. 
Give  him  my  compliments,  and  tell  him  that  I  am  out 
again." 

The  servant  bowed.  Lecoq  took  a  seat  beside  the  mag- 
istrate  and  the  cab  started  off. 

"  That  fellow  is  one  of  D'Escorval's  servants,"  remarked 
M.  Segmuller.  "  He's  richer  than  I,  and  can  well  afford 
to  keep  a  footman." 

"  D'Escorval's,"  ejaculated  Lecoq,  "  the  magistrate 
who—" 

"  Precisely.  He  sent  his  man  to  me  two  or  three  days 
ago,  to  ascertain  what  we  were  doing  with  our  mysterious 
May." 

"  Then  M.  d'Escorval  is  interested  in  the  case  ? " 

"  Prodigiously !  I  conclude  it  is  because  he  opened  the 
prosecution,  and  because  the  case  rightfully  belongs  to  him. 
Perhaps  he  regrets  that  it  passed  out  of  his  hands,  and 
thinks  that  he  could  have  managed  the  investigation  better 
himself.  We  would  have  done  better  with  it  if  we  could. 
I  would  give  a  good  deal  to  see  him  in  my  place." 

But  this  change  would  not  have  been  at  all  to  Lecoq's 
taste.  "  Ah,"  thought  he,  "  such  a  fellow  as  D'Escorval 
would  never  have  shown  me  such  confidence  as  M.  Seg- 
muller." He  had,  indeed,  good  reason  to  congratulate  him- 
self :  for  that  very  day  M.  Segmuller,  who  was  a  man  of  his 
word,  a  man  who  never  rested  until  he  had  carried  his  plan 
into  execution,  actually  induced  the  authorities  to  allow 
May  to  be  set  at  liberty ;  and  the  details  of  this  measure 
only  remained  to  be  decided  upon.  As  regards  the  pro- 
posed transfer  of  the  suspected  murderer  to  another  prison, 
this  was  immediately  carried  into  effect,  and  May  was  re- 
moved to  Mazas  where  Lecoq  had  no  fear  of  Gevrol's  inter- 
ference. 


2ie  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

That  same  afternoon,  moreover,  the  Widow  Chupin  re- 
ceived her  conditional  release.  There  was  no  difficulty  as 
regards  her  son,  Polyte.  He  had,  in  the  meantime,  been 
brought  before  the  correctional  court  on  a  charge  of  theft ; 
and,  to  his  great  astonishment,  had  heard  himself  sentenced 
to  thirteen  months'  imprisonment.  After  this,  M.  Seg- 
muller  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  wait,  and  this  was  the 
easier  as  the  advent  of  the  Easter  holidays  gave  him  an 
opportunity  to  seek  a  little  rest  and  recreation  with  his 
family  in  the  provinces. 

On  the  day  he  returned  to  Paris — the  last  of  the  recess, 
and  by  chance  a  Sunday — he  was  sitting  alone  in  his 
library  when  his  cook  came  to  tell  him  that  there  was  a  man 
in  the  vestibule  who  had  been  sent  from  a  neighbouring 
register-office  to  take  the  place  of  a  servant  he  had  recently 
dismissed.  The  new  comer  was  ushered  into  the  magis- 
trate's presence  and  proved  to  be  a  man  of  forty  or  there- 
abouts, very  red  in  the  face  and  with  carroty  hair  and 
whiskers.  He  was,  moreover,  strongly  inclined  to  corpu- 
lence, and  was  clad  in  clumsy,  ill-fitting  garments.  In  a 
complacent  tone,  and  with  a  strong  Norman  accent,  he  in- 
formed the  magistrate  that  during  the  pas*  twenty  years  he 
had  been  in  the  employment  of  various  literary  men,  as 
well  as  of  a  physician,  and  notary ;  that  he  was  familiar 
with  the  duties  that  would  be  required  of  him  at  the  Palais 
de  Justice,  and  that  he  knew  how  to  dust  papers  without 
disarranging  them.  In  short,  he  produced  such  a  favour- 
able impression,  that  although  M.  Segmuller  reserved 
twenty-four  hours  in  which  to  make  further  inquiries,  he 
drew  a  twenty  franc  piece  from  his  pocket  on  the  spot  and 
tendered  it  to  the  Norman  valet  as  the  first  instalment  of 
his  wages. 

But  instead  of  pocketing  the  proffered  coin,  the  man, 
with  a  sudden  change  of  voice  and  attitude,  burst  into  a 
a  hearty  laugh,  exclaiming :  "  Do  you  think,  sir,  that  May 
will  recognize  me  ?  " 

"  Monsieur  Lecoq !  "  cried  the  astonished  magistrate. 

"  The  same,  sir ;  and  I  have  come  to  tell  you  that  if  you 
are  ready  to  release  May,  all  my  arrangements  are  no\f 
completed." 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  21 1 


XX. 

WHEN  one  of  the  investigating  magistrates  of  the  Tribu- 
nal of  the  Seine  wishes  to  examine  a  person  confined  in 
one  of  the  Paris  prisons,  he  sends  by  his  messenger  to  the 
governor  of  that  particular  jail,  a  so-called  "order  of 
extraction,"  a  concise  imperative  formula,  which  reads  as 
follows ;  "  The  keeper  of prison  will  give  into  the  cus- 
tody of  the  bearer  of  this  order,  the  prisoner  know  as , 

in  order  that  he  may  be  brought  before  us  in  our  cabinet 
at  the  Palais  de  Justice."  No  more,  no  less,  a  signature, 
a  seal,  and  everybody  is  bound  to  obey. 

But  from  the  moment  of  receiving  this  order  until  the 
prisoner  is  again  incarcerated,  the  governor  of  the  prison 
is  relieved  of  all  responsibility.  Whatever  may  happen, 
his  hands  are  clear.  Minute  precautions  are  taken,  how- 
ever, so  that  a  prisoner  may  not  escape  during  his  journey 
from  the  prison  to  the  Palais.  He  is  carefully  locked  up 
in  a  compartment  of  one  of  the  lugubrious  vehicles  that 
may  be  often  seen  waiting  on  the  Quai  de  1'Horloge,  or  in 
the  court-yard  of  the  Sainte-Chapelle.  This  van  conveys 
him  to  the  Palais,  and  while  he  is  awaiting  examination,  he 
is  immured  in  one  of  the  cells  of  the  gloomy  jail,  familiarly 
known  as  "  la  Souriciere  "  or  the  mouse-trap.  On  enter- 
ing and  leaving  the  van  the  prisoner  is  surrounded  by 
guards :  and  on  the  road,  in  addition  to  the  mounted 
troopers  who  always  accompany  these  vehicles,  there  are 
prison  warders  or  linesmen  of  the  Card  de  Paris  installed 
in  the  passage  between  the  compartments  of  the  van  and 
seated  on  the  box  with  the  driver.  Hence,  the  boldest 
criminals  ordinarily  realize  the  impossibility  of  escaping 
from  this  ambulatory  prison. 

Indeed,  statistics  record  only  thirty  attempts  at  escape 
in  a  period  of  ten  years.  Of  these  thirty  attempts,  twenty- 
five  were  ridiculous  failures ;  four  were  discovered  before 
their  authors  had  conceived  any  serious  hope  of  success  : 
and  only  one  man  actually  succeeded  in  alighting  from 
the  vehicle,  and  even  he  had  not  taken  fifty  steps  before 
he  was  re-captured. 

Lecoq  was  well  acquainted  with  all  these  facts,  and  in 
preparing  everything  for  May's  escape,  his  only  fear  was 
lest  the  murderer  might  decline  to  profit  of  the  opportunity. 


«2  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

Hence,  it  was  necessary  to  offer  every  possible  inducement 
for  flight.  The  plan  the  young  detective  had  eventually 
decided  on  consisted  in  sending  an  order  to  Mazas  for 
May  to  be  despatched  to  the  Palais  de  Justice.  He  could 
be  placed  in  one  of  the  prison  vans,  and  at  the  moment  of 
starting  the  door  of  his  compartment  would  not  be  per- 
fectly secured.  When  the  van  reached  the  Palais  de  Jus- 
tice and  discharged  its  load  of  criminals  at  the  door  of  the 
"  mouse  trap "  May  would  purposely  be  forgotten  and 
left  in  the  vehicle,  while  the  latter  waited  on  the  Quai  de 
PHorloge,  until  the  hour  of  returning  to  Mazas.  It  was 
scarcely  possible  that  the  prisoner  would  fail  to  embrace 
this  apparently  favourable  opportunity  to  make  his  escape. 
Everything  was,  therefore,  prepared  and  arranged 
according  to  Lecoq's  directions,  on  the  Monday  following 
the  close  of  the  Easter  holidays ;  the  requisite  "  order  of 
extraction  "  being  entrusted  to  an  intelligent  man  with 
the  most  minute  instructions. 

Now,  although  the  van  in  which  May  would  journey  was 
not  to  be  expected  at  the  Palais  de  Justice  before  noon, 
it  so  happened  that  at  nine  o'clock  that  same  morning  a 
queer-looking  "  loafer  "  having  the  aspect  of  an  over-grown, 
over-aged  "gamin  de  Paris  "  might  have  been  seen  hang- 
ing about  the  Prefecture  de  Police.  He  wore  a  tattered 
black  woollen  blouse,  and  a  pair  of  wide,  ill-fitting  trous- 
ers, fastened  about  his  waist  by  a  leather  strap.  His  boots 
betrayed  a  familiar  acquaintance  with  the  puddles  of  the 
barrieres,  and  his  cap  was  shabby  and  dirty  though,  on  the 
other  hand,  his  necktie,  a  pretentious  silk  scarf  of  flaming 
hue,  was  evidently  quite  fresh  from  some  haberdasher's 
shop.  No  doubt  it  was  a  present  from  his  sweetheart. 
This  uncomely  being  had  the  unhealthy  complexion,  hol- 
low eyes,  slouching  mien,  and  straggling  beard  common  to 
his  tribe.  His  yellow  hair,  cut  closely  at  the  back  of  the 
head,  as  if  to  save  the  trouble  of  brushing,  was  long  in 
front  and  at  the  sides ;  being  plastered  down  over  his  fore- 
head and  advancing  above  his  ears  in  extravagant  cork- 
screw ringlets. 

What  with  his  attire,  his  affected  jaunty  step,  his  alter- 
nate raising  of  either  shoulder,  and  his  way  of  holding  his 
cigarette  and  of  ejecting  a  stream  of  saliva  from  between 
his  teeth,  Polyte  Chupin,  had  he  been  at  liberty,  would 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  213 

undoubted^  have  proffered  a  paw,  and  greeted  this  bar- 
riere  beauty  as  a  "  pal." 

It  was  the  i4th  of  April;  the  weather  was  lovely,  and, 
on  the  horizon,  the  youthful  foliage  of  the  chestnut  trees 
in  the  Tuileries  gardens  stood  out  against  a  bright  blue 
sky.  The  "  ethereal  mildness "  of  "  gentle  Spring " 
seemed  to  have  a  positive  charm  for  the  tattered  "  loafer  " 
who  lazily  loitered  in  the  sunlight,  dividing  his  attention 
between  the  passers-by  and  some  men  who  were  hauling 
sand  from  the  banks  of  the  Seine.  Occasionally,  how- 
ever, he  crossed  the  roadway,  and,  strange  to  say,  ex- 
changed a  few  remarks  with  a  neatly  dressed,  long-bearded, 
gentleman,  who  wore  gold  rimmed  spectacles  over  his  nose, 
and  drab  silk  gloves  on  his  hands.  This  individual  exhib- 
ited all  the  outward  characteristics  of  eminent  respecta- 
bility, and  seemed  to  take  a  remarkable  interest  in  the 
contents  of  an  optician's  shop  window. 

Every  now  and  then  a  policeman  or  an  agent  of  the 
detective  corps  passed  by  on  his  way  to  the  Prefecture,  and 
the  elderly  gentleman  or  the  "  loafer  "  would  at  times  run 
after  these  officials  to  ask  for  some  trifling  information. 
The  person  addressed  replied  and  passed  on;  and  then 
the  "loafer"  and  the  gentleman  would  join  each  other  and 
laughingly  exclaim  :  "  Good ! — there's  another  who  doesn't 
recognize  us." 

And  in  truth  the  pair  had  just  cause  for  exultation, 
good  reason  to  be  proud,  for  of  some  twelve  or  fifteen  com- 
rades they  accosted,  not  one  recognized  the  two  detectives, 
Lecoq  and  Father  Absinthe.  For  the  loafer  was  none 
other  than  our  hero,  and  the  gentleman  of  such  eminent 
respectability  his  faithful  lieutenant. 

"  Ah !  "  quoth  the  latter  with  admiration,  "  I  am  not 
surprised  they  don't  recognize  me,  since  I  can't  recognize 
myself.  No  one  but  you,  Monsieur  Lecoq,  could  have  so 
transformed  me." 

Unfortunately,  for  Lecoq's  vanity,  the  good  fellow  spoke 
at  a  moment  when  the  time  for  idle  conversation  had 
passed.  The  prison  van  was  just  crossing  the  bridge  at  a 
brisk  trot. 

"  Attention !  "  exclaimed  the  young  detective,  "  there 
comes  our  friend !  Quick ! — to  your  post ;  remember  my 
directions,  and  keep  your  eyes  open  !  " 

Near  them,  on  the  quay,  was  a  large  pile    of  tirabet 


214  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

behind  which  Father  Absinthe  immediately  concealed  him- 
self, whilst  Lecoq,  seizing  a  spade  that  was  lying  idle,  hur- 
ried to  a  little  distance  and  began  digging  in  the  sand. 
They  did  well  to  make  haste.  The  van  came  onwr.rds  and 
turned  the  corner.  It  passed  the  two  detectives,  and  with 
a  noisy  clang  rolled  under  the  heavy  arch  leading  to  *'  la 
Souriciere."  May  was  inside,  as  Lecoq  assured  himself 
on  recognizing  the  keeper  sitting  beside  the  driver. 

The  van  remained  in  the  court-yard  for  more  than  a 
quarter  of  an  hour.  When  it  re-appeared,  the  driver  had 
left  his  perch  and  the  quay  opposite  the  Palais  de  Justice, 
threw  a  covering  over  his  horses,  lighted  his  pipe,  and 
quietly  walked  away.  The  moment  for  action  was  now  swift- 
ly approaching. 

For  a  few  minutes  the  anxiety  of  the  two  watchers 
amounted  to  actual  agony ;  nothing  stirred — nothing  moved. 
But  at  last  the  door  of  the  van  was  opened  with  infinite 
caution,  and  a  pale,  frightened  face  became  visible.  It 
was  the  face  of  May.  The  prisoner  cast  a  rapid  glance 
around  him.  No  one  was  in  sight.  Then  as  swiftly  and 
as  stealthily  as  a  cat,  he  sprang  to  the  ground,  noiselessly 
closed  the  door  of  the  vehicle,  and  walked  quietly  towards 
the  bridge. 

Lecoq  breathed  again.  He  had  been  asking  himself 
if  some  trifling  circumstance  could  have  been  forgotten  or 
neglected,  thus  disarranging  all  his  plans.  He  had  been 
wondering  if  this  strange  man  would  refuse  the  dangerous 
liberty  which  had  been  offered  him.  But  he  had  been 
anxious  without  cause.  May  had  fled ;  not  thoughtlessly, 
but  with  premeditation. 

From  the  moment  when  he  was  left  alone,  apparently 
forgotten,  in  the  insecurely  locked  compartment,  until  he 
opened  the  door  and  glanced  around  him,  sufficient  time 
had  elapsed  for  a  man  of  his  intellect  and  discernment  to 
analyze  and  calculate  all  the  chances  of  so  grave  a  step. 
Hence,  if  he  had  stepped  into  the  snare  laid  for  him,  it  must 
be  with  a  full  knowledge  of  the  risks  he  had  to  run.  He 
and  Lecoq  were  alone  together,  free  in  the  streets  of 
Paris,  armed  with  mutual  distrust,  equally  obliged  to  resort 
to  strategy,  and  forced  to  hide  from  each  other.  Lecoq,  it 
is  true,  had  an  auxiliary — Father  Absinthe.  But  who 
could  say  that  May  would  not  be  aided  by  his  redoubtable 
accomplice  ?  Hence,  it  was  a  veritable  duel,  the  result 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  21$ 

of  which   depended   entirely  upon  the  courage,  skill,  and 
coolness  of  the  antagonists. 

All  these  thoughts  flashed  through  the  young  detective's 
brain  with  the  quickness  of  lightning.  Throwing  down  his 
spade,  and  running  towards  a  sergeant  de  ville,  who  was 
just  coming  out  of  the  Palais  de  Justice,  he  gave  him  a 
letter  which  was  ready  in  his  pocket.  "  Take  this  to  M. 
Segmuller  at  once ;  it  is  a  matter  of  importance,"  said 
he. 

The  policeman  attempted  to  question  this  "  loafer  " 
who  was  in  correspondence  with  the  magistrates  ;  but 
Lecoq  had  already  darted  off  on  the  prisoner's  trail. 

May  had  covered  but  a  short  distance.  He  was  saunt- 
ering along  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets;  his  head  high 
in  the  air,  his  manner  composed  and  full  of  assurance. 
Had  he  reflected  that  it  would  be  dangerous  to  run  while 
so  near  the  prison  from  which  he  had  just  escaped  ?  Or 
was  he  of  opinion  that  as  an  opportunity  of  flight  had 
been  willingly  furnished  him,  there  was  no  danger  of  immedi- 
ate re-arrest  ?  This  was  a  point  Lecoq  could  not  decide.  At 
all  events,  May  showed  no  signs  of  quickening  his  pace 
even  after  crossing  the  bridge  ;  and  it  was  with  the  same 
tranquil  manner  that  he  next  crossed  the  Quai  aux  Fleurs 
and  turned  into  the  Rue  de  la  Cite. 

Nothing  in  his  bearing  or  appearance  proclaimed  him 
to  be  an  escaped  prisoner.  Since  his  trunk — that  famous 
trunk  which  he  pretended  to  have  left  at  the  Hotel  de  Ma- 
riembourg — had  been  returned  to  him,  he  had  been  well 
supplied  with  clothing  :  and  he  never  failed,  when  sum- 
moned before  the  magistrate,  to  array  himself  in  his  best 
apparel.  The  garments  he  wore  that  day  were  black  cloth 
and  their  cut  combined  with  his  manner  gave  him  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  working  man  of  the  better  class,  taking  a 
holiday. 

His  tread,  hitherto  firm  and  decided,  suddenly  became 
uncertain  when,  after  crossing  the  Seine,  he  reached  the 
Rue  St.  Jacques.  He  walked  more  slowly,  frequently 
hesitated  and  glanced  continually  at  the  shops  on  either  side 
of  the  way. 

"  Evidently  he  is  seeking  something,"  thought  Lecoq  : 
"  but  what  ? " 

It  was  not  long  before  he  ascertained.  Seeing  a  second 
hand  clothes'  shop  close  by,  May  entered  in  evident  haste. 


216  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

Lecoq  at  once  stationed  himself  under  a  gateway  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  street,  and  pretended  to  be  busily  engag- 
ed lighting  a  cigarette.  The  criminal  being  momentarily  out 
of  sight,  Father  Absinthe  thought  he  could  approach  with- 
out danger. 

"  Ah,  well,"  said  he,  "  here's  our  man  changing  his  fine 
clothes  for  coarser  garments.  He  will  ask  for  the  differ- 
ence in  money  ;  and  they  will  give  it  him.  You  told  me 
this  morning :  '  May  without  a  sou  ' — that's  the  trump  card 
in  our  game  !  " 

"  Nonsense !  Before  we  begin  to  lament,  let  us  wait 
and  see  what  happens.  It  is  not  likely  that  shop  keeper 
will  give  him  any  money.  He  won't  buy  clothing  of  the 
first  passer-by." 

Father  Absinthe  withdrew  to  a  little  distance.  He  dis- 
trusted these  reasons,  but  not  Lecoq  who  gave  them. 

In  the  meanwhile,  in  his  secret  soul,  Lecoq  was  cursing 
himself.  Another  blunder,  thought  he,  another  weapon 
left  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  How  was  it  that  he,  who 
fancied  himself  so  shrewd,  had  not  foreseen  this  emer- 
gency ?  Calmness  of  mind  returned  however  a  moment 
afterwards  when  he  saw  May  emerge  from  the  shop,  attired 
as  when  he  entered  it.  Luck  had  for  once  been  in  the 
young  detective's  favour. 

May  actually  staggered  when  he  stepped  out  on  the  pave- 
ment. His  bitter  disappointment  could  be  read  in  his  count- 
enance, which  disclosed  the  anguish  of  a  drowning  man  who 
sees  the  frail  plank  which  was  his  only  hope  of  salvation 
snatched  from  his  grasp  by  the  ruthless  waves. 

What  could  have  taken  place  ?  This  Lecoq  must  know 
without  a  moment's  delay.  He  gave  a  peculiar  whistle, 
to  warn  his  companion  that  he  momentarily  abandoned 
the  pursuit  to  him ;  and  having  received  a  similar  signal 
in  response,  he  entered  the  shop.  The  owner  was  still 
standing  behind  the  counter.  Lecoq  wasted  no  time  in 
parleying.  He  merely  showed  his  card  to  acquaint  the 
man  with  his  profession,  and  curtly  asked ;  "  What  did 
the  fellow  want  who  was  just  in  here  ?  " 

The  shopkeeper  seemed  embarrassed.  *'  It's  a  !ong 
story,"  he  stammered. 

"  Then  tell  it !  "  said  Lecoq,  surprised  at  the  man's  hes- 
itation. 

"  Oh,  it's  very  simple.     About  twelve  days  ago,  a  man 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  z\7 

entered  my  shop  with  a  bundle  under  his  arm.     He  claimed 
to  be  a  countryman  of  mine." 
"  Are  you  an  Alsatian  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  Well,  I  went  with  this  man  to  the  wine-shop 
at  the  corner,  where  he  ordered  a  bottle  of  good  wine ; 
and  while  we  drank  together,  he  asked  me  if  I  would  con- 
sent to  keep  the  package  he  had  with  him  until  one  of  his 
cousins  came  to  claim  it.  To  prevent  any  mistake,  this 
cousin  was  to  say  certain  words — a  countersign,  as  it  were. 
I  refused,  shortly  and  decidedly,  for  the  very  month  before 
I  had  got  into  trouble  and  had  been  charged  with  receiv- 
ing stolen  goods,  all  by  obliging  a  person  in  this  way. 
Well,  you  never  saw  a  man  so  vexed  and  so  surprised. 
What  made  me  all  the  more  determined  in  my  refusal 
was  that  he  offered  me  a  good  round  sum  in  payment  for 
my  trouble.  This  only  increased  suspicion,  and  I  persisted 
in  my  refusal. 

The  shopkeeper  paused  to  take  breath ;  but  Lecoq  was 
on  fire  with  impatience.  "  And  what  then  ? "  he  insisted. 

"  Well  he  paid  for  the  wine,  and  went  away.  I  had  for- 
gotten all  about  the  matter,  until  that  man  came  in  here 
just  now,  and  after  asking  me  if  I  hadn't  a  package  for 
him,  which  had  been  left  by  one  of  his  cousins,  began  to 
say  some  peculiar  words — the  countersign,  no  doubt. 
When  I  replied  that  I  had  nothing  at  all,  he  turned  as 
white  as  his  shirt ;  and  I  thought  he  was  going  to  faint. 
All  my  suspicions  came  back  to  me.  So  when  he  after- 
wards proposed  that  I  should  buy  his  clothes,  I  told  him  I 
couldn't  think  of  it." 

All  this  was  plain  enough  to  Lecoq.  "  And  this  cousin 
who  was  here  a  fortnight  ago,  what  was  he  like  ? "  asked 
he. 

"  He  was  a  tall,  rather  corpulent  man,  with  a  ruddy 
complexion,  and  white  whiskers.  Ah  !  I  should  recognize 
him  in  an  instant  ! " 

"  The  accomplice  !  "  exclaimed  Lecoq. 

"  What  did  you  say  ? " 

"  Nothing  that  would  interest  you.  Thank  you.  I  am 
in  a  hurry.  You  will  see  me  again  :  good  morning." 

Lecoq  had  not  remained  five  minutes  in  the  shop  :  and 
yet,  when  he  emerged,  May  and  Father  Absinthe  were 
nowhere  in  sight.  Still,  the  young  detective  was  not  at  all 
uneasy  on  that  score,  In  making  arrangements  with  his 


2i8  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

old  colleague  for  this  pursuit  Lecoq  had  foreseen  such  a 
situation  and  it  had  been  agreed  that  if  one  of  them  were 
obliged  to  remain  behind,  the  other  who  was  closely  fol- 
lowing May,  should  from  time  to  time  make  chalk  marks 
on  the  walls,  shutters  and  facings  of  the  shops,  so  as  to  in- 
dicate the  route,  and  enable  his  companion  to  rejoin  him. 
Hence,  in  order  to  know  which  way  to  go,  Lecoq  had  only 
to  glance  at  the  buildings  around  him.  The  task  was 
neither  long  nor  difficult,  for  on  the  front  of  the  third  shop 
beyond  that  of  the  second-hand  clothes-dealer,  a  superb 
dash  of  the  crayon  instructed  him  to  turn  into  the  Rue 
Saint-Jacques. 

On  he  rushed  in  that  direction,  his  mind  busy  at  work 
with  the  incident  that  had  just  occurred.  What  a  terrible 
warning  that  old  clothes-dealer's  declaration  had  been  !  Ah  J 
that  mysterious  accomplice  was  a  man  of  foresight.  He 
had  even  done  his  utmost  to  ensure  his  comrade's  salva- 
tion in  the  event  of  his  being  allowed  to  escape.  What 
did  the  package  the  shop-keeper  had  spoken  of  contain  ? 
Clothes  no  doubt.  Everything  necessary  for  a  complete 
disguise  ;  money,  papers,  a  forged  passport  most  likely. 

While  these  thoughts  were  rushing  through  Lecoq's 
mind,  he  had  reached  the  Rue  Soufflot,  where  he  paused 
for  an  instant  to  learn  his  way  from  the  walls.  This  was 
the  work  of  a  second.  A  long  chalk-mark  on  a  watch-ma- 
ker's shop  pointed  to  the  Boulevard  Saint-Michel,  whither 
the  young  detective  at  once  directed  his  steps.  "  The  ac- 
complice," said  he  to  himself,  resuming  his  meditation, 
"  didn't  succeed  with  that  old  clothes-dealer ;  but  he  isn't 
a  man  to  be  disheartened  by  one  rebuff.  He  has  certainly 
taken  other  measures.  How  shall  I  divine  what  they  are 
in  order  to  defeat  them  ?  " 

The  supposed  murderer  had  crossed  the  Boulevard 
Saint-Michel,  and  had  then  taken  to  the  Rue  Monsieur-le- 
Prince,  as  Father  Absinthe's  dashes  of  the  crayon  pro- 
claimed with  many  eloquent  flourishes. 

"  One  circumstance  re-assures  me,"  the  young  detective 
murmured,  "  May's  going  to  this  shop,  and  his  conster- 
nation on  finding  that  there  was  nothing  for  him  there. 
The  accomplice  had  informed  him  of  his  plans,  but  had 
not  been  able  to  inform  him  of  their  failure.  Hence,  from 
this  hour,  the  prisoner  is  left  to  his  own  resources.  The 
chain  that  bound  him  to  his  accomplice  is  broken ;  there  ii 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  tig 

no  longer  an  understanding  between  them.  Everything 
depends  now  upon  keeping  them  apart.  Yes,  everything 
lies  in  that !  " 

Ah  !  how  Lecoq  rejoiced  that  he  had  succeeded  in 
having  May  transferred  to  another  prison ;  for  he  was 
convinced  that  the  accomplice  had  warned  May  of  the  at- 
tempt he  was  going  to  make  with  the  old  clothes-dealer  on 
the  very  evening  before  May's  removal  to  Mazas.  Hence, 
it  had  not  been  possible  to  acquaint  him  with  the  failure  of 
this  scheme  or  the  substitution  of  another. 

Still  following  the  chalk-marks,  Lecoq  now  reached  the 
Odeon  theatre.  Here  were  fresh  signs,  and  what  was 
more,  Father  Absinthe  could  be  perceived  under  the  col- 
onnade, standing  in  front  of  one  of  the  book-stalls,  and 
apparently  engrossed  in  the  contemplation  of  a  print. 

Assuming  the  nonchalant  manner  of  the  loafer  whose 
garb  he  wore,  Lecoq  took  his  stand  beside  his  colleague. 
"  Where  is  he  ?  "  asked  the  young  detective. 

"  There,"  replied  his  companion,  with  a  slight  movement 
of  his  head  in  the  direction  of  the  steps. 

The  fugitive  was,  indeed,  seated  on  one  of  the  steps  at 
the  side  of  the  theatre,  his  elbows  resting  on  his  knees  and 
his  face  hidden  in  his  hands,  as  if  he  felt  the  necessity  of 
concealing  the  expression  of  his  face  from  the  passers-by. 
Undoubtedly,  at  that  moment,  he  gave  himself  up  for  lost. 
Alone,  in  the  midst  of  Paris,  without  a  penny,  what  was  to 
become  of  him  ?  He  knew  beyond  the  shadow  of  a  doubt, 
that  he  was  being  watched ;  that  his  steps  were  being 
dogged,  that  the  first  attempt  he  made  to  inform  his  ac- 
complice of  his  whereabouts  would  cost  him  his  secret — 
the  secret  which  he  plainly  held  as  more  precious  than  life 
itself,  and  which,  by  immense  sacrifices,  he  had  so  far  been 
able  to  preserve. 

Having  for  some  short  time  contemplated  in  silence 
this  unfortunate  man  whom  after  all  he  could  but  esteem 
and  admire,  Lecoq  turned  to  his  old  companion.  "  What 
did  he  do  on  the  way  ? "  he  asked. 

"  He  went  into  the  shops  of  five  dealers  in  second-hand 
clothing  without  success.  Then  he  addressed  a  man  who 
was  passing  with  a  lot  of  old  rubbish  on  his  shoulder  :  but 
the  man  wouldn't  even  answer  him." 

Lecoq  nodded  his  head  thoughtfully.  "  The  moral  of 
this  is,  that  there's  a  vast  difference  between  theory  and 


220  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

practice,"  he  remarked.  "  Here's  a  fellow,  who  has  made 
some  most  discerning  men  believe  that  he's  only  a  poor 
devil,  a  low  buffoon.  Well,  now  he's  free ;  and  this  so- 
called  Bohemian  doesn't  even  know  how  to  go  to  work  to 
sell  the  clothes  on  his  back.  The  comedian  who  could 
play  his  part  so  well  on  the  stage,  has  disappeared  ;  while 
the  man  remains — the  man  who  has  always  been  rich,  and 
knows  nothing  of  the  vicissitudes  of  life." 

The  young  detective  suddenly  ceased  moralising,  for 
May  had  risen  from  his  seat.  Lecoq  was  only  ten  yards 
distant,  and  could  see  that  his  face  was  pallid.  His  atti- 
tude expressed  profound  dejection  and  one  could  read  his 
indecision  in  his  eyes.  Perhaps  he  was  wondering  if  it 
would  not  be  best  to  return  and  place  himself  again  in  the 
hands  of  his  jailers,  since  he  was  without  the  resources 
upon  which  he  had  depended. 

After  a  little,  however,  he  shook  off  the  torpor  that  had 
for  a  time  overpowered  him ;  his  eyes  brightened,  and, 
with  a  gesture  of  defiance,  he  left  the  steps,  crossed  the 
open  square  and  walked  down  the  Rue  de  PAncienne- 
Comedie.  He  strode  onward  now  with  the  brisk,  deter- 
mined step  of  a  man  who  has  a  definite  aim  in  view. 

"  Who  knows  where  he  is  going  now  ? "  murmured 
Father  Absinthe,  as  he  trotted  along  by  Lecoq's  side. 

"  I  do,"  replied  the  young  detective.  "  And  the  proof 
is,  that  I  am  going  to  leave  you,  and  run  on  in  advance, 
to  prepare  foi  his  reception.  I  may  be  mistaken,  however, 
and  as  we  must  be  prepared  for  any  emergency,  leave  me 
the  chalk-marks  as  you  go  along.  If  our  man  doesn't 
come  to  the  Hotel  de  Mariembourg,  as  I  think  he  will, 
I  shall  come  back  here  to  start  in  pursuit  of  you  again." 

Just  then  an  empty  cab  chanced  to  be  passing,  and 
Lecoq  hastily  got  into  it  telling  the  driver  to  take  him  to 
the  Northern  Railway  station  by  the  shortest  route  and  as 
quickly  as  possible.  As  time  was  precious,  he  handed  the 
cabman  his  fare  while  on  the  road,  and  then  began  to 
search  his  pocketbook  among  the  various  documents  con- 
fided to  him  by  M.  Segmuller,  for  a  particular  paper  he 
would  now  require. 

Scarcely  had  the  cab  stopped  at  the  Place  de  Roubaix 
than  the  young  detective  alighted  and  ran  toward  the 
Hotel  de  Mariembourg  where,  as  on  the  occasion  of  his 
first  visit,  he  found  Madame  Milner  standing  on  a  chaii 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ,  t2\ 

in  front  of  her  bird  cage,  obstinately  trying  to  teach  her 
starling  German,  while  the  bird  with  equal  obstinacy  re- 
peated :  "  Camille !  where  is  Camille  ? " 

On  perceiving  the  individual  of  questionable  mien,  who 
had  presumed  to  cross  her  threshold,  the  pretty  widow  did 
not  deign  to  change  her  position. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  she  asked  in  a  curt,  sharp  voice. 

"I  am  the  nephew  of  a  messenger  at  the  Palais  de 
Justice,"  replied  Lecoq  with  an  awkward  bow,  in  perfect 
keeping  with  his  attire.  "  On  going  to  see  my  uncle  this 
morning,  I  found  him  laid  up  with  rheumatism ;  and  he 
asked  me  to  bring  you  this  paper  in  his  stead.  It  is  a 
summons  for  you  to  appear  at  once  before  the  investigat- 
ing magistrate." 

This  reply  induced  Madame  Milner  to  abandon  her 
perch.  "  Very  well,"  she  replied  after  glancing  at  the 
summons  ;  "give  me  time  to  throw  a  shawl  over  my  shoul- 
der and  I'll  start." 

Lecoq  withdrew  with  another  awkward  bow  ;  but  he  had 
not  reached  the  street  before  a  significant  grimace  betrayed 
his  inward  satisfaction.  She  had  duped  him  once,  and 
now  he  had  repaid  her.  On  looking  round  him  he  per- 
ceived a  half  built  house  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  St. 
Quentin,  and  being  momentarily  in  want  of  a  hiding  place 
he  concluded  that  he  had  best  conceal  himself  there. 
The  pretty  widow  had  only  asked  for  sufficient  time  to 
slip  on  a  shawl  before  starting  ;  but  then  it  so  happened 
that  she  was  rather  particular  as  to  her  personal  appear- 
ance— and  such  a  plump  attractive  little  body  as  herself, 
having  an  eye  perhaps  to  renewed  wedlock,  could  not 
possibly  be  expected  to  tie  her  bonnet  strings  in  less  than 
a  quarter  of  an  hour.  Hence,  Lecoq's  sojourn  behind  the 
scaffolding  of  the  half  built  house,  proved  rather  longer 
than  he  had  expected,  and  at  the  thought  that  May  might 
arrive  at  any  moment  he  fairly  trembled  with  anxiety. 
How  much  was  he  in  advance  of  the  fugitive  ?  Half-an- 
hour,  perhaps  !  And  he  had  accomplished  only  half  his 
task. 

At  last,  however,  the  coquettish  landlady  made  her  ap- 
pearance as  radiant  as  a  spring  morning.  She  probably 
wished  to  make  up  for  the  time  she  had  spent  over  her 
toilet,  for  as  she  turned  the  corner  she  began  to  run. 
Lecoq  waited  till  she  was  out  of  sight,  and  then  bounding 


222  MONSIEUR  L£COQ. 

from  his  place  of  concealment,  he  burst  into  the  Hotel  de 
Mariembourg  like  a  bomb-shell. 

Fritz,  the  Bavarian  lad,  must  have  been  warned  that  the 
house  was  to  be  left  in  his  sole  charge  for  some  hours ;  for 
having  comfortably  installed  himself  in  his  mistress's  own 
particular  arm-chair,  with  his  legs  resting  on  another  one, 
he  had  already  commenced  to  fall  asleep. 

"  Wake  up  !  "  shouted  Lecoq  :  *'  wake  up  !  " 

At  the  sound  of  this  voice,  which  rang  like  a  trumpet 
blast,  Fritz  sprang  to  his  feet  frightened  half  out  of  his 
wits. 

"You  see  that  I  am  an  agent  of  the  Prefecture  of 
Police,"  said  the  visitor,  showing  his  card.  "  Now,  if  you 
wish  to  avoid  all  sorts  of  disagreeable  things,  the  least  of 
which  will  be  a  sojourn  in  prison,  you  must  obey  me." 

The  boy  trembled  in  every  limb.  "  Yes  mein  Herr — 
Monsieur,  I  mean — I  will  obey  you,"  he  stammered. 
"  But  what  am  I  to  do  ? " 

"Oh  very  little.     A  man  is  coming  here  in  a  moment 
you  will  know  him  f>y  his  black  clothes,  and  his  long  beard. 
You  must  answer  him  word  for  word,  as  I  tell  you.     And 
remember,  if  you  make  any  mistake,  you  will  suffer  for  it. " 

"  You  may  rely  upon  me,  sir,"  replied  Fritz.  "  I  have 
an  excellent  memory." 

The  prospect  of  imprisonment  had  terrified  him  into  ab- 
ject submission.  He  spoke  the  truth  ;  he  would  have  been 
willing  to  say  or  do  anything  just  then.  Lecoq  profited 
of  this  disposition  ;  and  then,  clearly  and  concisely  gave 
the  lad  his  instructions.  "And  now,"  added  he,  "I  must 
see  and  hear  you.  Where  can  I  hide  myself  ? " 

Fritz  pointed  to  a  glass  door.  "  In  the  dark  room 
there,  sir.  By  leaving  the  door  ajar  you  can  hear ;  and 
you  can  see  everything  through  the  glass." 

Without  another  word  Lecoq  darted  into  the  room  in 
question.  Not  a  moment  too  soon,  however,  for  the 
spring-bell  of  the  outer  door  announced  the  arrival  of  a 
visitor.  It  was  May.  "  I  wish  to  speak  to  the  landlady,*' 
he  said. 

"  What  landlady  ?  "  replied  the  lad. 

"The  person  who  received  me  when  I  came  here  six 
weeks  ago—" 

"Oh,  I  understand,"  interrupted  Fritz;  "it's  Madame 
Milner  you  want  to  see  ;  but  you  have  come  too  late  ;  she 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  323 

sold  the  house  about  a  month  ago,  and  has  gone  back  to 
Alsace." 

May  stamped  his  foot  and  uttered  a  terrible  oath.  "  I 
have  come  to  claim  something  from  her,"  he  insisted. 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  call  her  successor  ?  " 

Concealed  behind  the  glass  door,  Lecoq  could  not  help 
admiring  Fritz,  who  was  uttering  these  glaring  falsehoods 
with  that  air  of  perfect  candour  which  gives  the  Germans 
such  a  vast  advantage  over  the  Latin  races,  who  seem  to 
be  lying  even  when  they  are  telling  the  truth. 

"  Her  successor  would  order  me  off,"  exclaimed  May. 
"  I  came  to  reclaim  the  money  I  paid  for  a  room  I  never 
occupied." 

"  Such  money  is  never  refunded." 

May  uttered  some  incoherent  threat,  in  which  such 
words  as  "downright  robbery"  and  "justice"  could  be 
distinguished,  and  then  abruptly  walked  back  into  the 
street,  slamming  the  door  behind  him. 

"  Well !  did  I  answer  properly  ?  "  asked  Fritz  triumph- 
antly, as  Lecoq  emerged  from  his  hiding  place. 

"  Yes,  perfectly,"  replied  the  detective.  And  then  push- 
ing aside  the  boy,  who  was  standing  in  his  way,  he  dashed 
after  May. 

A  vague  fear  almost  suffocated  him.  It  had  struck  him 
that  the  fugitive  had  not  been  either  surprised  or  deeply 
affected  by  the  news  he  had  heard.  He  had  come  to  the 
hotel  depending  upon  Madame  Milner's  assistance  and  the 
news  of  this  woman's  departure  would  naturally  have 
alarmed  him,  for  was  she  not  the  mysterious  accomplice's 
confidential  friend  ?  Had  May  then  guessed  the  trick 
that  had  been  played  upon  him  ?  And  if  so,  how  ?  Lecoq's 
good  sense  told  him  plainly,  that  the  fugitive  must  have 
been  put  on  his  guard  and,  on  rejoining  Father  Absinthe, 
he  immediately  exclaimed,  "  May  spoke  to  some  one  on 
his  way  to  the  hotel." 

"  Why,  how  could  you  know  that  ? "  exclaimed  the  worthy 
man,  greatly  astonished. 

"  Ah !  I  was  sure  of  it  I " 

"  Who  did  ne  speak  to  ?  " 

"  To  a  very  pretty  woman^  upon  my  word  1 — fair  and 
plump  as  a  partridge  ! " 

"  Ah  1  fate  is  against  us ! "  exclaimed  Lecoq  with  an  oath. 
"  1  run  on  in  advance  to  Madame  Milner's  house,  so  thaf 


324  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

May  shan't  see  her.  I  invent  an  excuse  to  send  her  out 
of  the  hotel,  and  yet  they  meet  each  other." 

Father  Absinthe  gave  a  despairing  gesture.  "  Ah  !  if 
I  had  known  !  "  he  murmured  ;  "  but  you  did  not  tell  me  to 
prevent  May  from  speaking  to  the  passers-by." 

"  Never  mind,  my  old  friend,"  said  Lecoq,  consolingly ; 
"  it  couldn't  have  been  helped." 

While  this  conversation  was  going  on,  the  fugitive  had 
reached  the  Faubourg  Montmartre,  and  his  pursuers  were 
obliged  to  hasten  forward  and  get  closer  to  their  man  so 
that  they  might  not  lose  him  in  the  crowd. 

"  Now,"  resumed  Lecoq  when  they  had  overtaken  him, 
"  give  me  the  particulars.  Where  did  they  meet  ?  " 

"  In  the  Rue-Saint-Quentin." 

"  Which  saw  the  other  first  ?  " 

«  May." 

"  What  did  the  woman  say  ?  Did  you  hear  any  cry  of 
surprise  ? " 

"  I  heard  nothing,  for  I  was  quite  fifty  yards  off ;  but  by 
the  woman's  manner,  I  could  see  she  was  stupefied." 

Ah  !  if  Lecoq  could  have  witnessed  the  scene,  what  valua- 
ble deductions  he  might  have  drawn  from  it.  "  Did  they 
talk  for  a  long  time  ? "  he  asked. 

"  For  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour." 

"  Do  you  know  whether  Madame  Milner  gave  May  money 
or  not  ? " 

"  I  can't  say.  They  gesticulated  like  mad — so  violently, 
indeed,  that  I  thought  they  were  quarreling." 

"  They  knew  they  were  being  watched,  and  were  en- 
deavouring to  divert  suspicion." 

"  If  they  would  only  arrest  this  woman  and  question  her," 
suggested  Father  Absinthe. 

"  What  good  would  it  do  ?  Hasn't  M.  Segmuller  ex- 
amined and  cross-examined  her  a  dozen  times  without 
drawing  anything  from  her  !  Ah !  she's  a  cunning  one. 
She  would  declare  that  May  met  her  and  insisted  that  she 
should  refund  the  ten  francs  he  paid  her  for  his  room. 
We  must  do  our  best,  however.  If  the  accomplice  has 
not  been  warned  already,  he  will  soon  be  told;  so  we 
must  try  to  keep  the  two  men  apart.  What  ruse  they  will 
employ,  I  can't  divine.  But  I  know  that  it  will  be  nothing 
hackneyed." 

Lecoq's  presumptions  made  Father  Absinthe  nervous. 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  125 

"  The  surest  way,  perhaps,"  ventured  the  latter,  "  would  be 
to  lock  him  up  again !  " 

"  No !  "  replied  the  young  detective.  "  I  want  his  secret 
and  I'll  have  it.  What  will  be  said  of  us,  if  we  two  allow 
this  man  to  escape  us  ?  He  can't  be  visible  and  invisible 
by  turns,  like  the  devil.  We'll  see  what  he  is  going  to  do 
now  that  he's  got  some  money  and  a  plan — for  he  has  both 
at  the  present  moment.  I  would  stake  my  right  hand 
upon  it." 

At  that  same  instant,  as  if  May  intended  to  convince 
Lecoq  of  the  truth  of  his  suspicion,  he  entered  a  tobac- 
conist's shop,  and  emerged  an  instant  afterwards,  with  a 
cigar  in  his  mouth. 

XXI. 

So  the  landlady  of  the  Hotel  de  Mariembourg  had  given 
May  money.  There  could  be  no  further  doubt  on  that 
point  after  the  purchase  of  this  cigar.  But  had  they  agreed 
upon  any  plan  ?  Had  they  had  sufficient  time  to  decide 
on  the  method  that  May  was  to  employ  with  the  view  of 
baffling  his  pursuit  ? 

It  would  seem  so,  since  the  fugitive's  manner  had  now 
changed  in  more  respects  than  one.  If  hitherto  he  had 
seemed  to  care  little  for  the  danger  of  pursuit  and  capture 
at  present  he  was  evidently  uneasy  and  agitated.  After 
walking  so  long  in  the  full  sunlight,  with  his  head  high  in 
the  air,  he  now  slunk  along  in  the  shadow  of  the  houses, 
hiding  himself  as  much  as  possible. 

"  It  is  evident  that  his  fears  have  increased  in  proportion 
with  his  hopes,"  said  Lecoq  to  his  companion.  "  He  was 
quite  unnerved  when  we  saw  him  at  the  Odeon  and  the 
merest  trifle  would  have  decided  him  to  surrender ;  now, 
however,  he  thinks  he  has  a  chance  to  escape  with  his 
secret." 

The  fugitive  was  following  the  boulevards,  but  suddenly 
he  turned  into  a  side  street  and  made  his  way  toward  the 
Temple,  where,  soon  afterwards,  Father  Absinthe  and 
Lecoq  found  him  conversing  with  one  of  those  impor- 
tunate dealers  in  cast  off  garments  who  consider  every 
passer-by  their  lawful  prey.  The  vendor  and  May  were 
evidently  debating  a  question  of  price  ;  but  the  latter  was 
plainly  no  skilful  bargainer,  for  with  a  somewhat  dis- 


226  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

appointed  air,  he  soon  gave  up  the  discussion  and  entered 
the  shop. 

"  Ah,  so  now  he  has  some  coin  he  has  determined  on  a 
costume,"  remarked  Lecoq.  "  Isn't  that  always  an  escaped 
prisoner's  first  impulse  ?  " 

Soon  afterward  May  emerged  into  the  street.  His 
appearance  was  decidedly  changed  ;  for  he  wore  a  pair  of 
dark  blue  linen  trousers,  of  the  type  French  "  navvies  " 
habitually  affect,  and  a  loosely  fitting  coat  of  rough  woollen 
material.  A  gay  silk  'kerchief  was  knotted  about  his 
throat ;  and  a  black  silk  cap  was  set  on  one  side  of  his 
head.  Thus  attired,  he  was  scarcely  more  prepossessing 
in  appearance  than  Lecoq,  and  one  would  have  hesitated 
before  deciding  which  of  the  two  it  would  be  preferable 
to  meet  at  night  on  a  deserted  highway. 

May  seemed  very  well  pleased  with  his  transformation, 
and  was  evidently  more  at  ease  in  his  new  attire.  On 
leaving  the  shop,  however,  he  glanced  suspiciously  around 
him,  as  if  to  ascertain  which  of  the  passers-by  were 
watching  his  movements.  He  had  not  parted  with  his 
broadcloth  suit,  but  was  carrying  it  under  his  arm,  wrapped 
up  in  a  handkerchief.  The  only  thing  he  had  left  behind 
him  was  his  tall  chimney-pot  hat. 

Lecoq  would  have  liked  to  enter  the  shop,  and  make 
some  inquiries;  but  he  felt  that  it  would  be  imprudent  to 
do  so,  for  May  had  settled  his  cap  on  his  head  with  a 
gesture  that  left  no  doubt  as  to  his  intentions.  A  second 
later  he  turned  into  the  Rue  du  Temple,  and  now  the 
chase  began  in  earnest ;  for  the  fugitive  proved  as  swift 
and  agile  as  a  stag,  and  it  was  no  small  task  to  keep 
him  well  in  sight.  He  had  no  doubt  lived  in  England  and 
Germany,  since  he  spoke  the  language  of  these  countries 
like  a  native  ;  but  one  thing  was  certain — he  knew  Paris 
as  thoroughly  as  the  most  expert  Parisian. 

This  was  shown  by  the  way  in  which  he  dashed  into  the 
Rue  des  Gravelliers,  and  by  the  precision  of  his  course 
through  the  many  winding  streets  that  lie  between  the  Rue 
du  Temple  and  the  Rue  Beaubourg.  He  seemed  to  know 
this  quarter  of  the  capital  by  heart ;  as  well,  indeed,  as  if 
he  had  spent  half  his  life  there.  He  knew  all  the  wine- 
shops communicating  with  two  streets — all  the  by-ways, 
passages,  and  tortuous  alleys.  Twice  he  almost  escaped 
his  pursuers ,  and  once  his  salvation  hung  upon  a  thread. 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  «? 

If  he  had  remained  in  an  obscure  corner,  where  he  was 
completely  hidden,  only  an  instant  longer,  the  two  detectives 
would  have  passed  him  by  and  his  safety  would  have  been 
assured. 

The  pursuit  presented  immense  difficulties.  Night  was 
coming  on,  and  with  it  that  light  fog  which  almost  invaria- 
bly accompanies  a  spring  sun-set.  Soon  the  street-lamps 
glimmered  luridly  in  the  mist,  and  then  it  required  a  keen 
eyesight  indeed  to  see  even  for  a  moderate  distance.  And 
to  add  to  this  drawback,  the  streets  were  now  thronged 
with  workmen  returning  home  after  their  daily  toil,  and 
with  housewives  intent  on  purchasing  provisions  for  the 
evening  meal ;  while  round  about  each  dwelling  there  con- 
gregated its  numerous  denizens  swarming  like  bees  around 
a  hive.  May,  moreover,  took  advantage  of  every  oppor- 
tunity to  mislead  the  persons  who  might  be  following  him. 
Groups  collected  around  some  cheap-jack's  stall,  street 
accidents,  a  block  of  vehicles — everything  was  utilized  by 
him  with  such  marvellous  presence  of  mind  that  he  often 
glided  through  the  crowd  without  leaving  any  sign  of  his 
passage. 

At  last  he  left  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Rue  des  Grav- 
elliers  and  made  for  a  broader  street.  Reaching  the 
Boulevard  de  Sebastopol,  he  turned  to  the  left,  and  took  a 
fresh  start.  He  darted  on  with  marvellous  rapidity  with 
his  elbows  pressed  close  to  his  body — husbanding  his 
breath,  and  timing  his  steps  with  the  precision  of  a  danc- 
ing master.  Never  pausing,  and  without  once  turning  his 
head,  he  ever  hurried  on.  And  it  was  at  the  same  regular 
but  rapid  pace  that  he  covered  the  Boulevard  de  Sebasto- 
pol, crossed  the  Place  du  Chatelet,  and  proceeded  to 
mount  the  Boulevard  Saint-Michel. 

Here  he  suddenly  halted  before  a  cab-stand.  He  spoke 
to  one  of  the  drivers  opened  the  door  of  his  vehicle  and 
jumped  in.  The  cab  started  of  at  a  rapid  pace.  But  May 
was  not  inside.  He  had  merely  passed  through  the  vehicle 
getting  out  at  the  other  door,  and  just  as  the  driver  was 
departing  for  an  imaginary  destination  May  slipped  into 
an  adjacent  cab  which  left  the  stand  at  a  gallop.  Perhaps, 
after  so  many  ruses,  after  such  formidable  efforts  after 
this  last  stratagem — perhaps  May  believed  that  he  was 
free. 

He  was  mistaken.    Behind  the  cab  which  bore  him  on- 


228  MONSIEUR  LECOO. 

ward,  and  whilst  he  leant  back  against  the  cushions  to 
rest,  a  man  was  running ;  and  this  man  was  Lecoq.  Poor 
Father  Absinthe  had  fallen  by  the  way.  In  front  of  the 
Palais  de  Justice  he  paused,  exhausted  and  breathless, 
and  Lecoq  had  little  hope  of  seeing  him  again,  since  he 
he  had  all  he  could  do  to  keep  his  man  in  sight,  without 
stopping  to  make  the  chalk-marks  agreed  upon. 

May  had  instructed  his  driver  to  take  him  to  the  Place 
d'ltalie  :  requesting  him,  moreover,  to  stop  exactly  in  the 
middle  of  the  square.  This  was  about  a  hundred  paces 
from  the  police-station  in  which  he  had  been  temporarily 
confined  with  the  Widow  Chupin.  When  the  vehicle 
halted  he  sprang  to  the  ground,  and  cast  a  rapid  glance 
around  him,  as  if  looking  for  some  dreaded  shadow.  He 
could  see  nothing  ;  however,  for  although  surprised  by  the 
sudden  stoppage  Lecoq  had  yet  had  time  to  fling  himself 
flat  on  his  stomach  under  the  body  of  the  cab  regardless 
of  all  danger  of  being  crushed  by  the  wheels.  May  was 
apparently  re-assured.  He  paid  the  cabman  and  then  re- 
traced his  course  towards  the  Rue  Mouffetard. 

With  a  bound,  Lecoq  was  on  his  feet  again,  and  started 
after  the  fugitive  as  eagerly  as  a  ravenous  dog  might  fol- 
low a  bone.  He  had  reached  the  shadow  cast  by  the  large 
trees  in  the  outer  boulevards,  when  a  faint  whistle  re- 
sounded in  his  ears.  "  Father  Absinthe  !  *'  he  exclaimed, 
in  a  tone  of  delighted  surprise. 

"The  same,"  replied  the  old  detective,  "and  quite 
rested,  thanks  to  a  passing  carman  who  picked  me  up  and 
brought  me  here " 

"  Oh,  enough  !  "  interrupted  Lecoq.  "  Let  us  keep  our 
eyes  open." 

May  was  now  walking  quite  leisurely.  He  stopped  first 
before  one  and  then  before  another  of  the  numerous  wine- 
shops and  eating  houses  that  abound  in  this  neighbour- 
hood. He  was  apparently  looking  for  someone  or  some- 
thing, which  of  the  two  Lecoq  could  not  of  course  divine. 
However,  after  peering  through  the  glass  doors  of  three  of 
these  establishments  and  then  turning  away,  the  fugitive 
at  last  entered  the  fourth.  The  two  detectives,  who  were 
enabled  to  obtain  a  good  view  of  the  shop  inside,  saw  the 
supposed  murderer  cross  the  room  and  seat  himself  at  3 
table,  where  a  man  of  unusually  stalwart-build,  ruddy- 
faced  and  grey-whiskered,  was  already  seated. 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  229 

"The  accomplice  ! "  murmured  Father  Absinthe. 

Was  this  really  the  redoubtable  accomplice  ?  Undei 
other  circumstances  Lecoq  would  have  hesitated  to  place 
dependence  on  a  vague  similarity  in  personal  appearance  ; 
but  here  probabilities  were  so  strongly  in  favour  of  Father 
Absinthe's  assertion  that  the  young  detective  at  once  ad- 
mitted its  truth.  Was  not  this  meeting  the  logical  se- 
quence of  May  and  Madame  Milner's  chance  interview  a 
few  hours  before  ? 

"  May,"  thought  Lecoq,  "  began  by  taking  all  the  money 
Madame  Miller  had  about  her ;  and  then  instructed  her  to 
tell  his  accomplice  to  come  and  wait  for  him  in  some  cheap 
restaurant  near  here.  If  he  hesitated  and  looked  inside 
the  different  establishments,  it  was  only  because  he  hadn't 
been  able  to  specify  any  particular  one.  Now,  if  they 
don't  throw  aside  the  mask,  it  will  be  because  May  is  not 
sure  he  has  eluded  pursuit,  and  because  the  accomplice 
fears  that  Madame  Milner  may  have  been  followed." 

The  accomplice,  if  this  new  personage  was  really  the  ac- 
complice, had  resorted  to  a  disguise  not  unlike  that  which 
May  and  Lecoq  had  both  adopted.  He  wore  a  dirty  blue 
blouse,  and  a  hideous  old  slouch  hat,  which  was  well-nigh 
in  tatters.  He  had,  in  fact,  rather  exaggerated  his  make- 
up, for  his  sinister  physiognomy  attracted  es^eci^l  atten- 
tion even  beside  the  depraved  and  ferocious  face--  of  the 
other  cuscomers  in  the  shop.  For  this  low  eating  house 
was  a  regular  den  of  thieves  and  cut-throats.  A"iong 
those  present,  there  were  not  four  workmen  really 
worthy  of  that  name.  The  others  occupied  in  eating  —id 
drinking  there,  were  all  more  or  less  familia-  with  ^n'son 
life.  The  least  to  be  dreaded  were  the  barriere  loafers 
easily  recognized  by  their  glazed  caps  and  their  1  sely- 
knotted  neckerchiefs.  The  majority  of  the  company  ap- 
peared to  consist  of  this  class. 

And  yet  May,  that  man  who  was  so  strongly  suspected 
of  belonging  to  the  highest  social  sphere,  seemed  to  be 
perfectly  at  home.  He  called  for  the  regular  "  ordinary  " 
and  a  "  chopine  "  of  wine,  and  then,  after  gulping  down 
his  soup,  bolted  great  pieces  of  beef,  pausing  every  now 
and  then  to  wipe  his  mouth  on  the  back  of  his  sleeve. 
But  was  he  conversing  with  his  neighbour  ?  This  it  was 
impossible  to  discern  through  the  glass  door,  all  obscured 
by  smoke  and  steam. 


230  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

"  I  must  go  in,"  said  Lecoq,  resolutely.  "  I  must  get  a 
place  near  them,  and  listen." 

"  Don't  think  of  such  a  thing,"  said  Father  Absinthe. 
"  What  if  they  recognized  you !  " 

"They  won't  recognize  me." 

"  If  they  do,  they'll  kill  you." 

Lecoq  made  a  careless  gesture. 

"I  certainly  think  that  they  wouldn't  hesitate  to  rid 
themselves  of  me  at  any  cost.  But,  nonsense  !  A  detec- 
tive who  is  afraid  to  risk  his  life  is  no  better  than  a  low 
spy.  Why!  you  never  saw  even  Gevrol  flinch." 

Perhaps  Father  Absinthe  had  wished  to  ascertain  if 
his  companion's  courage  was  equal  to  his  shrewdness 
and  sagacity.  If  such  were  the  case  he  was  satisfied  on 
this  score  now. 

"  You,  my  friend,  will  remain  here  to  follow  them  if 
they  leave  hurriedly,"  resumed  Lecoq,  who  in  the 
meanwhile  had  already  turned  the  handle  of  the  door. 
Entering  with  a  careless  air  and  taking  a  seat  at  a 
table  near  that  occupied  by  the  fugitive  and  the  man  in 
the  slouched  hat,  he  called  for  a  plate  of  meat  and  a 
chopine  of  wine  in  a  guttural  voice. 

The  fugitive  and  the  ruffian  opposite  him  were  talk- 
ing, but  like  strangers  who  had  met  by  chance,  and  not 
at  all  after  the  fashion  of  friends  who  have  met  at  a 
rendezvous.  They  spoke  in  the  jargon  of  their  pre- 
tended rank  in  life,  not  that  puerile  slang  met  with  in 
romances  descriptive  of  low  life,  but  that  obscene  vul- 
gar dialect  which  it  is  impossible  to  render,  so  change- 
able and  diverse  is  the  signification  of  its  words. 

"  What  wonderful  actors  !  "  thought  Lecoq  ;  "  what 
perfection!  what  method!  How  I  should  be  deceived 
if  I  were  not  absolutely  certain  !" 

For  the  moment  the  man  in  the  slouch  hat  was  giving 
a  detailed  account  of  the  different  prisons  in  France. 
He  described  the  governors  of  the  principal  houses  of 
detention  ;  explained  the  divergencies  of  discipline  in 
different  establishments;  and  recounted  that  the  food 
at  Poissy  was  ten  times  better  than  that  at  Fontevrault. 

Lecoq,  having  finished  his  repast,  ordered  a  small 
glass  of  brandy,  and,  leaning  his  back  against  the  wall  and 
closing  his  eyes,  pretended  to  fall  asleep.  His  ears  were 


"  His  ears  were  wide  open,  however,  and  he  carefully  listened  to 
the  conversation." 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  231 

wide  open  however,  and  he  carefully  listened  to  the  con- 
versation. 

Soon  May  began  talking  in  his  turn  ;  and  he  narrated 
his  story  exactly  as  he  had  related  it  to  the  magistrate, 
from  the  murder  up  to  his  escape,  without  forgetting  to 
mention  the  suspicions  attached  to  his  identity — suspicions 
which  had  afforded  him  great  amusement,  he  said.  He 
added  that  he  would  be  perfectly  happy  if  he  had  money 
enough  to  take  him  back  to  Germany ;  but  unfortunately 
he  only  had  a  few  sous  and  didn't  know  where  or  how  to 
procure  any  more.  He  had  not  even  succeeded  in  selling 
some  clothing  which  belonged  to  him,  and  which  he  had 
with  him  in  a  bundle. 

At  these  words  the  man  in  the  tattered  felt  hat  declared 
that  he  had  too  good  a  heart  to  leave  a  comrade  in  such 
embarrassment.  He  knew,  in  the  very  same  street,  an 
an  obliging  dealer  in  such  articles,  and  he  offered  to  take 
May  to  his  place  at  once.  May's  only  response  was  to 
rise,  saying,  "Let  us  start."  And  they  did  start,  with 
Lecoq  still  at  their  heels. 

They  walked  rapidly  on  until  passing  the  Rue  Fer-a- 
Moulin  when  they  turned  into  a  narrow  dimly-lighted 
alley,  and  entered  a  dingy  dwelling. 

"  Run  and  ask  the  concierge  if  there  are  not  two  doors 
by  which  any  one  can  leave  this  house,"  said  Lecoq,  ad- 
dressing Father  Absinthe. 

The  latter  instantly  obeyed.  He  learnt,  howevei,  that 
the  house  had  only  one  street  door,  and  accordingly  the 
two  detectives  waited.  "We  are  discovered!"  mur- 
mured Lecoq.  "  I  am  sure  of  it.  May  must  have  recog- 
nized me,  or  the  boy  at  the  Hotel  de  Mariembourg  has 
described  me  to  the  accomplice  " 

Father  Absinthe  made  no  response,  for  just  then  the 
two  men  came  out  of  the  house.  May  was  jingling  some 
coins  in  his  hand,  and  seemed  to  be  in  a  very  bad  temper. 
"  What  infernal  rascals  these  receivers  are  !  "  he  grum- 
bled. 

However,  although  he  had  only  received  a  small  sum 
for  his  clothing,  he  probably  felt  that  his  companion's 
kindness  deserved  some  reward ;  for  immediately  after- 
wards he  proposed  they  should  take  a  drink  together,  and 
with  that  object  in  view  they  entered  a  wine-shop  close 
by.  They  remained  here  for  more  than  an  hour,  drinking 


232  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

together  ;  and  only  left  this  establishment  to  enter  one  a 
hundred  paces  distant.  Turned  out  by  the  landlord,  who 
was  anxious  to  shut  up,  the  two  friends  now  took  refuge 
in  the  next  one  they  found  open.  Here  again  they  were 
soon  turned  out  and  then  they  hurried  to  another  boozing- 
den — and  yet  again  to  a  fifth.  And  so,  after  drinking  in- 
numerable bottles  of  wine,  they  contrived  to  reach  the 
Place  Saint-Michel,  at  about  one  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
Here,  however,  they  found  nothing  to  drink  ;  for  all  the 
wine-shops  were  closed. 

The  two  men  then  held  a  consultation  together,  and, 
after  a  short  discussion,  they  walked  arm-in-arm  towards 
the  Faubourg  Saint-Germain,  like  a  pair  of  friends.  The 
liquor  they  had  imbibed  was  seemingly  producing  its 
effect,  for  they  often  staggered  in  their  walk,  and  talked 
not  merely  loudly  but  both  at  the  same  time.  In  spite  of 
the  danger,  Lecoq  advanced  near  enough  to  catch  some 
fragments  of  their  conversation ;  and  the  words  "  a  good 
stroke,"  and  "  money  enough  to  satisfy  one,"  reached  his 
ears. 

Father  Absinthe's  confidence  wavered.  "  All  this  will 
end  badly,"  he  murmured. 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,"  replied  his  friend.  "  I  frankly 
confess  that  I  don't  understand  the  manoeuvres  of  these 
wily  confederates,  but  what  does  that  matter  after  all ; 
now  the  two  men  are  together,  I  feel  sure  of  success — 
sure.  If  one  runs  away,  the  other  will  remain,  and  Gev- 
rol  shall  soon  see  which  is  right,  he  or  I." 

Meanwhile  the  two  drunkards  had  slackened  their  pace. 
By  the  manner  in  which  they  examined  the  magnificent 
mansions  of  the  Faubourg  Saint-Germain,  one  might  have 
suspected  them  of  the  very  worst  intentions.  In  the  Rue 
de  Varrennes,  at  only  a  few  steps  from  the  Rue  de  la 
Chaise,  they  suddenly  paused  before  a  wall  of  moderate 
height  surrounding  an  immense  garden.  The  man  in  the 
slouch  hat  now  did  the  talking,  and  explained  to  May — 
as  the  detectives  could  tell  by  his  gestures — that  the  man- 
sion to  which  the  garden  belonged  had  its  front  entrance 
in  the  Rue  de  Crenelle. 

"  Bah  !  "  growled  Lecoq,  "  how  much  further  will  they 
carry  this  nonsense  ?  " 

They  carried  it  farther  than  the  young  detective  had 
ever  imagined.  May  suddenly  sprung  on  to  his  compan- 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  233 

ion's  shoulders,  and  raised  himself  to  a  level  with  the  sum. 
mit  of  the  wall.  An  instant  afterwards  a  heavy  thud  might 
have  been  heard.  He  had  let  himself  drop  into  the  gar- 
den. The  man  in  the  slouch  hat  remained  in  the  street  to 
watch. 

The  enigmatical  fugitive  had  accomplished  this  strange, 
inconceivable  design  so  swiftly  that  Lecoq  had  neither  the 
time  nor  the  desire  to  oppose  him.  His  amazement  at 
this  unexpected  misfortune  was  so  great  that  for  an  instant 
he  could  neither  think  nor  move.  But  he  quickly  regained 
his  self-possession,  and  at  once  decided  what  was  to  be 
done.  With  a  sure  eye  he  measured  the  distance  separat- 
ing him  from  May's  accomplice,  and  with  three  bounds  he 
was  upon  him.  The  man  in  the  slouched  hat  attempted 
to  shout,  but  an  iron  hand  stifled  the  cry  in  his  throat. 
He  tried  to  escape,  and  to  beat  off  his  assailant,  but  a  vig- 
orous kick  stretched  him  on  the  ground  as  if  he  had  been  a 
child.  Before  he  had  time  to  time  to  think  of  further  re- 
sistance he  was  bound,  gagged,  and  carried,  half -suffocated, 
to  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de  la  Chaise.  No  sound  had 
been  heard ;  not  a  word,  not  an  ejaculation,  not  even  a 
noise  of  scuffling — nothing.  Any  suspicious  sound  might 
have  reached  May,  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall,  and  warned 
him  of  what  was  going  on. 

"  How  strange,"  murmured  Father  Absinthe,  too  much 
amazed  to  lend  a  helping  hand  to  his  younger  colleague. 
"  How  strange  !  Who  would  have  supposed — " 

"  Enough  !  enough  ! "  interrupted  Lecoq,  in  that  harsh, 
imperious  voice,  which  imminent  peril  always  gives  to  en- 
ergetic men.  "  Enough  ! — we  will  talk  to-morrow.  I  must 
run  away  for  a  minute,  and  you  will  remain  here.  If  May 
shows  himself,  capture  him ;  don't  allow  him  to  escape." 

"  I  understand  ;  but  what  is  to  be  done  with  the  man  who 
is  lying  there  ?  " 

"  Leave  him  where  he  is.  I  have  bound  him  securely, 
so  there  is  nothing  to  fear.  When  the  night-police  pass. 
we  will  give  him  into  charge — " 

He  paused  and  listened.  A  short  way  down  the  street, 
heavy,  measured  footsteps  could  be  heard  approaching. 

"  There  they  come,"  said  Father  Absinthe. 

"  Ah  I  I  dared  not  hope  it  1  I  shall  have  a  good  chance 
now." 

At  the  same  moment,  two  sergeants  de  ville,  whose  at- 


'234  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

tention  had  been  attracted  by  this  group  at  the  street  cor- 
ner, hastened  towards  them.  In  a  few  words,  Lecoq 
explained  the  situation,  and  it  was  decided  that  one  of  the 
sergeants  should  take  the  accomplice  to  the  station-house, 
while  the  other  remained  with  Father  Absinthe  to  cut  off 
May's  retreat. 

"  And  now,"  said  Lecoq,  "  I  will  run  round  to  the  Rue 
de  Crenelle  and  give  the  alarm.  To  whose  house  does 
this  garden  belong  ?  " 

"  What !  "  replied  one  of  the  sergeants  in  surprise, 
"  don't  you  know  the  gardens  of  the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse, 
the  famous  duke  who  is  a  millionaire  ten  times  over,  and 
who  was  formally  the  friend — " 

"  Ah  yes,  I  know,  I  know  !  "  said  Lecoq. 

"  The  thief,"  resumed  the  sergeant,  "  walked  into  a  pretty 
trap  when  he  got  over  that  wall.  There  was  a  reception 
at  the  mansion  this  evening  as  there  is  every  Monday  and 
every  one  in  the  house  is  still  up.  The  guests  are  only 
just  leaving  for  there  were  five  or  six  carriages  still  at  the 
door  as  we  passed  by." 

Lecoq  darted  off  extremely  troubled  by  what  he  had  just 
heard.  It  now  seemed  to  him,  that  if  May  had  got  into 
this  garden,  it  was  not  for  the  purpose  of  committing  a  rob- 
bery, but  in  the  hope  of  throwing  his  pursuers  off  the  track, 
and  making  his  escape  by  way  of  the  Rue  de  Crenelle, 
which  he  hoped  to  do  unnoticed,  in  the  bustle  and  confu 
sion  attending  the  departure  of  the  guests. 

On  reaching  the  Hotel  de  Sairmeuse,  a  princely  dwelling 
the  long  facade:  of  which  was  brilliantly  illuminated,  Le- 
coq found  a  last  carriage  just  coming  from  the  court-yard, 
while  several  footmen  were  extinguishing  the  lights,  and 
an  imposing  "  Suisse,"  dazzling  to  behold  in  his  gorgeous 
livery,  prepared  to  close  the  heavy  double  doors  of  the 
grand  entrance. 

The  young  detective  advanced  towards  this  important 
personage,  "  Is  this  the  Hotel  de  Sairmeuse  ? "  he  in- 
quired. 

The  Suisse  suspended  his  work  to  survey  the  audacious 
vagabond  who  ventured  to  question  him  and  then  in  a 
harsh  voice  replied — "  I  advise  you  to  pass  on.  I  want 
none  of  your  jesting." 

Lecoq  had  forgotten  that  he  was  clad  as  a  barriere 
loafer.  "  Ah,"  he  rejoined,  *  I'm  not  what  I  seem  to  be. 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  235 

I'm  an  agent  of  the  secret  service ;  by  name  Lecoq.  Here 
is  my  card,  and  I  came  to  tell  you  that  an  escaped  crim- 
inal has  just  scaled  the  garden  wall  in  the  rear  of  the  Ho- 
tel de  Sairmeuse." 

"  A  crim-in-al  ?  " 

The  young  detective  thought  a  little  exaggeration  could 
do  no  harm,  and  might  perhaps  ensure  him  more  ready 
aid.  "  Yes,"  he  replied ;  "  and  one  of  the  most  dangerous 
kind — a  murderer  who  has  the  blood  of  three  victims  al- 
ready on  his  hands.  We  have  just  arrested  his  accomplice, 
who  helped  him  over  the  wall." 

The  flunkey's  ruby  nose  paled  perceptibly.  "  I  will 
summon  the  servants,"  he  faltered,  and  suiting  the  action 
to  the  word,  he  was  raising  his  hand  to  the  bell-chain,  em- 
ployed to  announce  the  arrival  of  visitors,  when  Lecoq 
hastily  stopped  him. 

"  A  word  first  1 "  said  he.  "  Might  not  the  fugitive  have 
passed  through  the  house  and  escaped  by  this  door,  with- 
out being  seen  ?  In  that  case  he  would  be  far  away  by 
this  time.;' 

"  Impossible  1 w 

"But  why?" 

"  Excuse  me,  but  I  know  what  I  am  saying.  First,  the 
door  opening  into  the  garden  is  closed;  it  is  only  open 
during  grand  receptions,  not  for  our  ordinary  Monday 
drawing-rooms.  Secondly,  Monseigneur  requires  me  to 
stand  on  the  threshold  of  the  street  door  when  he  is  re- 
ceiving. To-day  he  repeated  this  order,  and  you  may  be 
sure  that  I  haven't  disobeyed  him." 

"  Since  that's  the  case,"  said  Lecoq,  slightly  re-assured, 
"  we  shall  perhaps  succeed  in  finding  our  man.  Warn  the 
servants,  but  without  ringing  the  bell.  The  less  noise  we 
make,  the  greater  will  be  our  chance  of  success." 

In  a  moment  the  fifty  servants  who  peopled  the  ante- 
rooms, stables,  and  kitchens  of  the  Hotel  de  Sairmeuse 
were  gathered  togather.  The  great  lanterns  in  the  coach 
houses  and  stables  were  lighted,  and  the  entire  garden  was 
illuminated  as  by  enchantment. 

"  If  May  is  concealed  here,"  thought  Lecoq,  delighted 
to  see  so  many  auxiliaries,  "  it  will  be  impossible  for  him 
to  escape." 

But  it  was  in  vain  that  the  gardens  were  thoroughly  ex- 
plored over-and-over  again ;  no  one  could  be  found.  The 


236  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

sheds  where  the  gardening  tools  were  kept,  the  conserva- 
tories, the  summer-houses,  the  two  rustic  pavilions  at  the 
foot  of  the  garden,  even  the  dog-kennels,  were  scrupu- 
lously visited,  but  all  in  vain.  The  trees,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  some  horse-chestnuts  at  the  rear  of  the  garden, 
were  almost  destitute  of  leaves,  but  they  were  not  neg- 
lected on  that  account.  An  agile  boy,  armed  with  a  lan- 
tern, climbed  each  tree,  and  explored  even  the  topmost 
branches. 

"  The  murderer  must  have  left  by  the  way  he  came," 
obstinately  repeated  the  Suisse  who  had  armed  himself  with 
a  huge  pistol,  and  who  would  not  let  go  his  hold  on  Lecoq, 
fearing  an  accident  perhaps. 

To  convince  the  Suisse  of  his  error  it  was  necessary  for 
the  young  detective  to  place  himself  in  communication  with 
Father  Absinthe  and  the  sergeant  de  ville  on  the  other  sidf 
of  the  wall.  As  Lecoq  had  expected,  the  latter  both  replied 
that  they  had  not  once  taken  their  eyes  off  the  wall,  and 
that  not  even  a  mouse  had  crossed  into  the  street. 

The  exploration  had  hitherto  been  conducted  after  a 
somewhat  haphazard  fashion,  each  of  the  servants  obeying 
his  own  inspiration ;  but  the  necessity  of  a  methodically 
conducted  search  was  now  recognized.  Accordingly,  Lecoq 
took  such  measures  that  not  a  corner,  not  a  recess,  could 
possibly  escape  scrutiny ;  and  he  was  dividing  the  task 
between  his  willing  assistants,  when  a  new-comer  appeared 
upon  the  scene.  This  was  a  grave,  smooth-faced  individual 
in  the  attire  of  a  notary. 

"  Monsieur  Otto,  Monseigneur's  first  valet  de  chambre," 
the  Suisse  murmured  in  Lecoq's  ear. 

This  important  personage  came  on  behalf  of  Monsieur  le 
Due  (he  did  not  say  "  Monseigneur  ")  to  inquire  the  meaning 
of  all  this  uproar.  When  he  had  received  an  explanation, 
M.  Otto  condescended  to  compliment  Lecoq  on  his 
efficiency,  and  to  recommend  that  the  house  should  be 
searched  from  garret  to  cellar.  These  precautions  alone 
would  allay  the  fears  of  Madame  la  Duchesse. 

He  then  departed ;  and  the  search  began  again  with 
renewed  ardour.  A  mouse  concealed  in  the  gardens  of  the 
Hotel  de  Sairmeuse  could  not  have  escaped  discovery,  so 
minute  were  the  investigations.  Not  a  single  object  of  any 
size  was  left  undisturbed.  The  trees  were  examined  leaf- 
by-leaf,  one  might  almost  say.  Occasionally  the  discouraged 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  337 

servants  proposed  to  abandon  the  search  ;  but  Lecoq  urged 
them  on.  He  ran  from  one  to  the  other,  entreating  and 
threatening  by  turns,  swearing  that  he  asked  only  one  more 
effort,  and  that  this  effort  would  assuredly  be  crowned  with 
success.  Vain  promises !  The  fugitive  could  not  be  found. 

The  evidence  was  now  conclusive.  To  persist  in  search- 
ing the  garden  any  longer  would  be  worse  than  folly. 
Accordingly,  the  young  detective  decided  to  recall  his 
auxiliaries.  "  That's  enough,"  he  said,  in  a  despondent 
voice.  "  It  is  now  certain  that  the  criminal  is  no  longer  in 
the  garden." 

Was  he  cowering  in  some  corner  of  the  great  house,  white 
with  fear,  and  trembling  at  the  noise  made  by  his  pursuers  ? 
One  might  reasonably  suppose  this  to  be  the  case ;  and 
such  was  the  opinion  of  the  servants.  Above  all,  such  was 
the  opinion  of  the  Suisse  who  renewed  with  growing  assur- 
ance his  affirmations  of  a  few  moments  before. 

"  I  have  not  moved  from  the  threshold  of  the  house  to- 
night," he  said,  "and  I  should  certainly  have  seen  any 
person  who  passed  out." 

"  Let  us  go  into  the  house,  then,"  said  Lecoq.  "  But 
first  let  me  ask  my  companion,  who  is  waiting  for  me  in 
the  street,  to  join  me.  It  is  unnecessary  for  him  to  remain 
any  longer  where  he  is." 

When  Father  Absinthe  had  responded  to  the  summons 
all  the  lower  doors  were  carefully  closed  and  guarded,  and 
the  search  recommenced  inside  the  house,  one  of  the  largest 
and  most  magnificent  residences  of  the  Faubourg  Saint- 
Germain.  But  at  this  moment  all  the  treasures  of  the 
universe  could  not  have  won  a  single  glance  or  a  second's 
attention  from  Lecoq.  All  his  thoughts — were  occupied 
with  the  fugitive.  He  passed  through  several  superb 
drawing-rooms,  along  an  unrivalled  picture  gallery,  across  a 
magnificent  dining-room,  with  sideboards  groaning  beneath 
their  load  of  massive  plate,  without  paying  the  slightest 
attention  to  the  marvels  of  art  and  upholstery  that  were 
offered  to  his  view.  He  hurried  on  accompanied  by  the 
servants  who  were  guiding  and  lighting  him.  He  lifted 
heavy  articles  of  furniture  as  easily  as  he  would  have  lifted 
a  feather ;  he  moved  each  chair  and  sofa  from  its  place, 
he  explored  each  cupboard  and  wardrobe,  and  drew  back 
in  turns  all  the  wall-hangings,  window-curtains,  an&portieres, 
A  more  complete  search  would  have  been  impossible.  ID 


338  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

each  of  the  rooms  and  passages  that  Lecoq  entered  not  a 
nook  was  left  unexplored,  not  a  corner  was  forgotten.  At 
length,  after  two  hours  continuous  work,  Lecoq  returned  to 
the  first  floor.  Only  five  or  six  servants  had  accompanied 
him  on  his  tour  of  inspection.  The  others  had  dropped  off 
one  by  one,  weary  of  this  adventure,  which  had  at  first 
possessed  the  attractions  of  a  pleasure  party. 

"  You  have  seen  everything,  gentlemen,"  declared  an  old 
tootman. 

"  Everything  !  "  interrupted  the  Suisse,  "  everything  1 
Certainly  not.  There  are  the  private  apartments  of  Mon- 
seigneur  and  those  of  Madame  la  Duchesse  still  to  be  ex- 
plored." 

"  Alas  ! "  murmured  Lecoq,  "  What  good  would  it  be  ? " 

But  the  Suisse  had  already  gone  to  rap  gently  at  one  of 
the  doors  opening  into  the  hall.  His  interest  equalled  that 
of  the  detectives.  They  had  seen  the  murderer  enter ;  he 
had  not  seen  him  go  out ;  therefore  the  man  was  in  the 
house  and  he  wished  him  to  be  found. 

The  door  at  which  he  had  knocked  soon  opened,  and  the 
grave,  clean-shaven  face  of  Otto,  the  duke's  first  valet  de 
chambre,  showed  itself.  "  What  the  deuce  do  you  want  ?  " 
he  asked  in  surly  tones. 

"  To  enter  Monseigneur's  room,"  replied  the  Suisse,  "  in 
order  to  see  if  the  fugitive  has  not  taken  refuge  there." 

"  Are  you  crazy  ?  "  exclaimed  the  head  valet  de  chambre. 
"  How  could  any  one  have  entered  here  ?  Besides,  I  can't 
suffer  Monsieur  le  Due  to  be  disturbed.  He  has  been  at 
work  all  night,  and  he  is  just  going  to  take  a  bath  before 
going  to  bed. 

The  Suisse  seemed  very  vexed  at  this  rebuff ;  and  Lecoq 
was  presenting  his  excuses,  when  another  voice  was  heard 
exclaiming.  "  Let  these  worthy  men  do  their  duty,  Otto." 

"  Ah  I  do  you  hear  that ! "  exclaimed  the  Suisse  tri 
umphantly. 

"  Very  well,  since  Monsieur  le  Due  permits  it.  Come 
in,  I  will  light  you  through  the  apartments." 

Lecoq  entered,  but  it  was  only  for  form's  sake  that  he 
walked  through  the  different  apartments ;  a  library,  an 
admirable  study  and  a  charming  smoking-room.  As  he 
was  passing  through  the  bed-chamber,  he  had  the  honout 
of  seeing  the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse  through  the  half-open 
door  of  a  small,  white,  marble  bath-room. 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  239 

"  Ah,  well !  "  cried  the  duke,  affably,  "  is  the  fugitive 
still  invisible  ?  " 

"  Still  invisible,  monsieur,"  Lecoq  respectfully  replied. 

The  valet  de  chambre  did  not  share  his  master's  good 
humor.  "  I  think,  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  that  you  may 
spare  yourselves  the  trouble  of  visiting  the  apartments  of 
the  duchess.  It  is  a  duty  we  have  taken  upon  ourselves — 
the  women  and  I — and  we  have  looked  even  in  the  bureau 
drawers." 

Upon  the  landing  the  old  footman,  who  had  not  ventured 
to  enter  his  master's  apartments,  was  awaiting  the  detec- 
tives. He  had  doubtless  received  his  orders,  for  he  po- 
litely inquired  if  they  desired  anything,  and  if,  after  such 
a  fatiguing  night,  they  would  not  find  some  cold  meat  and 
a  glass  of  wine  acceptable.  Father  Absinthe's  eyes  spark- 
led. He  probably  thought  that  in  this  guasi-royal  abode 
they  must  have  delicious  things  to  eat  and  drink — such 
viands,  indeed,  as  he  had  never  tasted  in  his  life.  But 
Lecoq  civilly  refused,  and  left  the  Hotel  de  Sairmeuse, 
reluctantly  followed  by  his  old  companion. 

He  was  eager  to  be  alone.  For  several  hours  he  had 
been  making  immense  efforts  to  conceal  his  rage  and  des- 
pair. May  escaped  !  vanished !  evaporated  !  The  thought 
drove  him  almost  mad.  What  he  had  declared  to  be  im- 
possible had  nevertheless  occured.  In  his  confidence  and 
pride,  he  had  sworn  to  answer  for  the  prisoner's  head 
with  his  own  life  ;  and  yet  he  had  allowed  him  to  slip  be- 
tween his  fingers. 

When  he  was  once  more  in  the  street,  he  paused  in 
front  of  Father  Absinthe,  and  crossing  his  arms,  inquired : 
"  Well,  my  friend,  what  do  you  think  of  all  this  ? " 

The  old  detective  shook  his  head,  and  in  serene  uncon- 
sciousness of  his  want  of  tact,  responded :  "  I  think  that 
Gevrol  will  chuckle  with  delight." 

At  this  mention  of  his  most  cruel  enemy,  Lecoq  bounded 
from  the  ground  like  a  wounded  bull.  "  Oh  ! "  he  ex- 
claimed. "  Gevrol  has  not  won  the  battle  yet.  We  have 
lost  May :  it  is  a  great  misfortune  :  but  his  accomplice  re- 
mains in  our  hands.  We  hold  the  crafty  man  who  has 
hitherto  defeated  all  our  plans,  no  matter  how  carefully 
arranged.  He  is  certainly  shrewd  and  devoted  to  his  Iriend ; 
but  we  will  see  if  his  devotion  will  withstand  the  prospect  of 
hard  labour  in  the  penitentiary.  And  that  is  what  awaits 


240  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

him,  if  he  is  silent,  and  if  he  thus  accepts  the  responsibility  of 
aiding  and  abetting  the  fugitive's  escape.  Oh !  I've  no  fears 
— M.  Segmuller  will  know  how  to  draw  the  truth  out  of  him." 
So  speaking,  Lecoq  brandished  his  clenched  fist  with  a 
threatening  air  and  then,  in  calmer  tones,  he  added :  "  But 
we  must  go  to  the  station-house  where  the  accomplice  was 
removed.  I  wish  to  question  him  a  little." 


XXII. 

IT  was  six  o'clock,  and  the  dawn  was  just  breaking  when 
Father  Absinthe  and  his  companion  reached  the  station- 
house,  where  they  found  the  superintendent  seated  at  a 
small  table,  making  out  his  report.  He  did  not  move 
when  they  entered,  failing  to  recognize  them  under  their 
disguises.  But  when  they  had  mentioned  their  names,  he 
rose  with  evident  cordiality,  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Upon  my  word ! "  said  he,  "  I  congratulate  you  on 
your  capture  last  night." 

Father  Absinthe  and  Lecoq  exchanged  an  anxious  look. 
"  What  capture  ? "  they  both  asked  in  a  breath. 

"  Why,  thiit  individual  you  sent  me  last  night  so  care- 
fully bound." 

"  Well,  what  about  him  ?  " 

The  superintendent  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh.  "So 
you  are  ignorant  of  your  good  fortune,"  said  he.  "  Ah  ! 
luck  has  favoured  you,  and  you  will  receive  a  handsome 
reward." 

"  Pray  tell  us  what  we've  captured  ?  "  asked  Father  Ab- 
sinthe, impatiently. 

"  A  scoundrel  of  the  deepest  dye,  an  escaped  convict, 
who  has  been  missing  for  three  months.  You  must  have 
a  description  of  him  in  your  pocket — Joseph  Couturier,  in 
short." 

On  hearing  these  words,  Lecoq  became  so  frightfully 
pale  that  Father  Absinthe,  fearing  he  was  going  to  faint, 
raised  his  arms  to  prevent  his  falling.  A  chair  stood  close 
by,  however,  and  on  this  Lecoq  allowed  himself  to  drop . 
"  Joseph  Couturier,"  he  faltered,  evidently  unconscious  of 
what  he  was  saying.  "  Joseph  Couturier !  an  escaped  con 
vict  !  " 

The  superintendent  certainly  did  not  understand  Lecoq's 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  241 

agitation,  any  better  than  he  understood  Father  Absinthe's 
discomfited  air. 

"  You  have  reason  to  be  proud  of  your  work  ;  your  suc- 
cess will  make  a  sensation  this  morning,"  he  repeated. 
"  You  have  captured  a  famous  prize.  I  can  see  Gevrol's 
nose  now  when  he  hears  the  news.  Only  yesterday  he  was 
boasting  that  he  alone  was  capable  of  securing  this  danger- 
ous rascal." 

After  such  an  irreparable  failure  as  that  which  had  over- 
taken Lecoq,  the  unintended  irony  of  these  compliments 
was  bitter  in  the  extreme.  The  superintendent's  words  of 
praise  fell  on  his  ears  like  so  many  blows  from  a  sledge 
hammer. 

"  You  must  be  mistaken,"  he  eventually  remarked,  rising 
from  his  seat  and  summoning  all  his  energy  to  his  assist- 
ance. "  That  man  is  not  Couturier." 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  mistaken ;  you  may  be  quite  sure  of  that- 
He  fully  answers  the  description  appended  to  the  circular 
ordering  his  capture,  and  even  the  little  finger  of  his  left 
hand  is  lacking,  as  is  mentioned." 

"  Ah  !  that's  a  proof  indeed  ! "  groaned  Father  Absinthe. 

"  It  is  indeed.  And  I  know  another  one  more  conclu- 
sive still.  Couturier  is  an  old  acquaintance  of  mine.  I 
have  had  him  in  custody  before;  and  he  recognized  me 
last  night  just  as  I  recognized  him/' 

After  this  further  argument  was  impossible ;  hence  it 
it  was  in  an  entirely  different  tone  that  Lecoq  remarked  : 
"  At  least,  my  friend,  you  will  allow  me  to  address  a  few 
questions  to  your  prisoner." 

"  Oh  !  as  many  as  you  like.  But  first  of  all,  let  us  bar 
the  door  and  place  two  of  my  men  before  it.  This  Couturier 
has  a  fondness  for  the  open  air,  and  he  wouldn't  hesitate  to 
dash  out  our  brains  if  he  only  saw  a  chance  of  escape." 

After  taking  these  precautions,  the  man  was  removed 
from  the  cage  in  which  he  had  been  confined.  He  step- 
ped forward  with  a  smile  on  his  face,  having  already 
recovered  that  nonchalant  manner  common  to  old  offen- 
ders who,  when  in  custody,  seem  to  lose  all  feeling  of 
anger  against  the  police.  They  are  not  unlike  these  gam 
biers  who,  after  losing  their  last  half-penny,  nevertheless 
willingly  shake  hands  with  their  adversary. 

Couturier  at  once  recognized  Lecoq.     "  Ah  !  "  said  he, 
"  it  was  you  who  did  that  business  last  night.     You  can 
16 


24*  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

boast  of  having  a  solid  fist !  You  fell  upon  me  very  unex- 
pectedly ;  and  the  back  of  my  neck  is  still  the  worse  for 
your  clutch." 

"  Then,  if  I  were  to  ask  a  favour  of  you,  you  wouldn't 
be  disposed  to  grant  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  !  all  the  same.  I  have  no  more  malice  in  my 
composition  than  a  chicken  ;  and  I  rather  like  your  face. 
What  do  you  want  of  me  ? " 

"  I  should  like  to  have  some  information  about  the  man 
who  accompanied  you  last  night." 

Couturier's  face  darkened.  "I  am  really  unable  to 
give  you  any,"  he  replied. 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I  don't  know  him.  I  never  saw  him  before 
last  night." 

"  It's  hard  to  believe  that.  A  fellow  doesn't  enlist  the 
first-comer,  for  an  expedition  like  yours  last  evening.  Be- 
fore undertaking  such  a  job  with  a  man,  one  finds  out 
something  about  him." 

"  I  don't  say  I  haven't  been  guilty  of  a  stupid  blunder," 
replied  Couturier.  "  Indeed  I  could  murder  myself  for  it, 
but  there  was  nothing  about  the  man  to  make  me  suspect 
that  he  belonged  to  the  secret-service.  He  spread  a  net 
for  me,  and  I  jumped  into  it.  It  was  made  for  me,  of 
course  ;  but  it  wasn't  necessary  for  me  to  put  my  foot  into 
it." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  my  man,"  said  Lecoq.  "  The  in- 
dividual in  question  didn't  belong  to  the  police  force.  I 
pledge  you  my  word  of  honour,  he  didn't." 

For  a  moment  Couturier  surveyed  Lecoq  with  a  knowing 
air,  as  if  he  hoped  to  discover  whether  he  were  speaking 
the  truth  or  attempting  to  deceive  him.  "  I  believe  you," 
he  said  at  last.  "And  to  prove  it  I'll  tell  you  how  it  hap- 
pened. I  was  dining  alone  last  evening  in  a  restaurant  in 
the  Rue  Mouffetard,  when  that  man  came  in  and  took  a 
seat  beside  me.  Naturally  we  began  to  talk ;  and  I 
thought  him  a  very  good  sort  of  a  fellow.  I  forget  how  it 
began,  but  somehow  or  other  he  mentioned  that  he  had 
some  clothes  he  wanted  to  sell ;  and  being  glad  to  oblige 
him,  I  took  him  to  a  friend,  who  bought  them  from  him. 
It  was  doing  him  a  good  turn,  wasn't  it  ?  Well,  he  offered 
me  something  to  drink,  and  I  returned  the  compliment. 
We  had  a  number  of  glasses  together,  and  by  midnight  I 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  243 

began  to  see  double.  He  then  began  to  propose  a  plan, 
which,  he  swore  would  make  us  both  rich.  It  was  to 
steal  the  plate  from  a  superb  mansion.  There  would  be 
no  risk  for  me  ;  he  would  take  charge  of  the  whole  affair. 
I  had  only  to  help  him  over  the  wall,  and  keep  watch. 
The  proposal  was  tempting — was  it  not  ?  You  would  have 
thought  so,  it  you  had  been  in  my  place,  and  yet  I  hesi- 
tated. But  the  fellow  insisted.  He  swore  that  he  was  ac- 
quainted with  the  habits  of  the  house  ;  that  Monday  eve- 
ning was  a  grand  gala  night  there,  and  that  on  these  occa- 
sions the  servants  didn't  lock  up  the  plate.  After  a  little 
while  I  consented." 

A  fleeting  flush  tinged  Lecoq's  pale  cheeks.  "  Are  you 
sure  he  told  you  that  the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse  received 
every  Monday  evening  ? "  he  asked,  eagerly. 

"  Certainly  ;  how  else  could  I  have  known  it !  He  even 
mentioned  the  name  you  uttered  just  now,  a  name  ending 
in  '  euse.' " 

A  strange  thought  had  just  flitted  through  Lecoq's  mind. 
"What  if  May  and  the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse  should  be  one 
and  the  same  person  ? "  But  the  notion  seemed  so 
thoroughly  absurd,  so  utterly  inadmissible  that  he  quickly 
dismissed  it,  despising  himself  even  for  having  entertained 
it  for  a  single  instant.  He  cursed  his  inveterate  inclina- 
tion always  to  look  at  events  from  a  romantic  impossible 
side,  instead  of  considering  them  as  natural  common-place 
incidents.  After  all  there  was  nothing  surprising  in  the 
fact  that  a  man  of  the  world,  such  as  he  supposed  May  to 
be,  should  know  the  day  set  aside  by  the  Duke  de  Sair- 
meuse for  the  reception  of  his  friends. 

The  young  detective  had  nothing  more  to  expect  from 
Couturier.  He  thanked  him,  and  after  shaking  hands 
with  the  superintendent,  walked  away,  leaning  on  Father 
Absinthe's  arm.  For  he  really  had  need  of  support.  His 
legs  trembled,  his  head  whirled,  and  he  felt  sick  both  in 
body  and  in  mind.  He  had  failed  miserably,  disgracefully. 
He  had  flattered  himself  that  he  possessed  a  genius  for  his 
calling,  and  yet  he  had  been  easily  outwitted.  To  rid  him- 
self of  pursuit,  May  had  only  had  to  invent  a  pretended 
accomplice,  and  this  simple  stratagem  had  sufficed  to  non- 
plus those  who  were  on  his  trail. 

Father  Absinthe  was  rendered  uneasy  by  his  colleague's 


244  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

evident  dejection.  "  Where  are  we  going  ? "  he  enquired ; 
"  to  the  Palais  de  Justice,  or  to  the  Prefecture  de  Police  ? " 

Lecoq  shuddered  on  hearing  this  question,  which  brought 
him  face  to  face  with  the  horrible  reality  of  his  situation. 
"  To  the  Prefecture  !  "  he  responded.  "  Why  should  I  go 
there  ?  To  expose  myself  to  Gevrol's  insults,  perhaps ! 
I  haven't  courage  enough  for  that.  Nor  do  I  feel  that  I 
have  strength  to  go  to  M.  Segmuller  and  say :  '  Forgive 
me  :  you  have  judged  me  top  favourably.  I  am  a  fool ! ' ' 

"  What  are  we  to  do  ?  " 

"  Ah !  I  don't  know.  Perhaps  I  shall  embark  for  Amer- 
ica— perhaps  I  shall  throw  myself  into  the  river." 

He  had  walked  about  a  hundred  yards  when  suddenly 
he  stopped  short.  "  No  !  "  he  exclaimed,  with  a  furious 
stamp  of  his  foot.  "  No,  this  affair  shan't  end  like  this. 
I  have  sworn  to  have  the  solution  of  the  enigma — and  I 
will  have  it ! "  For  a  moment  he  reflected ;  then,  in  a 
calmer  voice,  he  added :  "  There  is  one  man  who  can  save 
us,  a  man  who  will  see  what  I  haven't  been  able  to  discern, 
who  will  understand  things  that  I  couldn't.  Let  us  go 
and  ask  his  advice,  my  course  will  depend  on  his  reply — 
come ! " 

After  such  a  day  and  such  a  night,  it  might  have  been 
expected  that  these  two  men  would  have  felt  an  irresistible 
desire  to  sleep  and  rest.  But  Lecoq  was  sustained  by 
wounded  vanity,  intense  disappointment,  and  yet  unex- 
tinguished  hope  of  revenge :  while  poor  Father  Absinthe 
was  not  unlike  some  luckless  cab-horse,  which,  having  for- 
gotten there  is  such  a  thing  as  repose,  is  no  longer  con- 
scious of  fatigue,  but  travels  on  until  he  falls  down  dead. 
The  old  detective  felt  that  his  limbs  were  failing  him ;  but 
Lecoq  said :  "  It  is  necessary,"  and  so  he  walked  on. 

They  both  went  to  Lecoq's  lodgings,  where  they  laid 
aside  their  disguises  and  made  themselves  trim.  Then 
after  breakfasting  they  hastily  betook  themselves  to  the 
Rue  St.  Lazare,  where  entering  one  of  the  most  stylish 
houses  in  the  street,  Lecoq  enquired  of  the  concierge, 
"  Is  M.  Tabaret  at  home  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  he's  ill,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Very  ill  ? "  asked  Lecoq  anxiously. 

"  It  is  hard  to  tell,"  replied  the  man :  "  it  is  his  old 
complaint — gout."  And  with  an  air  of  hypocritical  com- 
miseration, he  added  :  "  M.  Tabaret  is  not  wise  to  lead 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  245 

the  life  he  does.  Women  are  very  well  in  a  way,  but  at 
his  age " 

The  two  detectives  exchanged  a  meaning  glance,  and  as 
soon  as  they  were  out  of  hearing  burst  out  laughing. 
Their  hilarity  had  scarcely  ceased  when  they  reached  the 
first  floor,  and  rang  the  bell  at  the  door  of  one  of  the 
apartments.  The  buxom-looking  woman  who  appeared  in 
answer  to  this  summons,  informed  them  that  her  master 
would  receive  them,  although  he  was  confined  to  his  bed. 
'  However,  the  doctor  is  with  him  now,"  she  added. 
"  But  perhaps  the  gentlemen  would  not  mind  waiting  un- 
til he  has  gone  ? "  The  gentlemen  replying  in  the  affirma- 
tive, she  then  conducted  them  into  a  handsome  library, 
and  invited  them  to  sit  down. 

The  person  whom  Lecoq  had  come  to  consult  was  a  man 
celebrated  for  wonderful  shrewdness  and  penetration,  well- 
nigh  exceeding  the  bounds  of  possibility.  For  five-and- 
forty  years  he  had  held  a  petty  post  in  one  of  the  offices 
of  the  Mont  de  Piete,  just  managing  to  exist  upon  the 
meagre  stipend  he  received.  Suddenly  enriched  by  the 
death  of  a  relative,  of  whom  he  had  scarcely  ever  heard,  he 
immediately  resigned  his  functions,  and  the  very  next  day 
began  to  long  for  the  same  employment  he  had  so  often 
anathematized.  In  his  endeavours  to  divert  his  mind,  he 
began  to  collect  old  books,  and  heaped  up  mountains  of 
tattered  worm-eaten  volumes  in  immense  oak  bookcases. 
But  despite  this  pastime  to  many  so  attractive,  he  could 
not  shake  off  his  weariness.  He  grew  thin  and  yellow,  and 
his  income  of  forty  thousand  francs,  was  literally  killing 
him,  when  a  sudden  inspiration  came  to  his  relief.  It 
came  to  him  one  evening  after  reading  the  memoirs  of  a 
celebrated  detective,  one  of  those  men  of  subtle  penetration, 
soft  as  silk,  and  supple  as  steel,  whom  justice  sometimes 
nets  upon  the  trial  of  crime. 

"  And  I  also  am  a  detective  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

This,  however,  he  must  prove.  From  that  day  forward 
he  perused  with  feverish  interest  every  book  he  could  find 
that  had  any  connection  with  the  organisation  of  the  police 
service  and  the  investigation  of  crime.  Reports  and  pamph- 
lets, letters  and  memoirs,  he  eagerly  turned  from  one  to  the 
other,  in  his  desire  to  master  his  subject.  Such  learning 
as  he  might  find  in  books,  did  not  suffice,  however,  to  per- 
feet  his  education.  Hence,  whenever  a  crime  came  to  his 


346  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

knowledge  he  started  out  in  quest  of  the  particulars  and 
worked  up  the  case  by  himself. 

Soon  these  platonic  investigations  did  not  suffice,  and 
one  evening,  at  dusk,  he  summoned  all  his  resolution,  and, 
going  on  foot  to  the  Prefecture  de  Police,  humbly  begged 
employment  from  the  officials  there.  He  was  not  very  fa- 
vourably received,  for  applicants  are  numerous.  But  he 
pleaded  his  cause  so  adroitly  that  at  last  he  was  charged 
with  some  trifling  commissions.  He  performed  them  ad- 
mirably. The  great  difficulty  was  then  overcome.  Other 
matters  were  entrusted  to  him,  and  he  soon  displayed  a 
wonderful  aptitude  for  his  chosen  work. 

The  case  of  Madame  B ,  the  rich  banker's  wife,  made 

him  virtually  famous.  Consulted  at  a  moment  when  the 
police  had  abandoned  all  hope  of  solving  the  mystery,  he 
proved  by  A  plus  B — by  a  mathematical  deduction,  so  to 
speak — that  the  dear  lady  must  have  stolen  her  own  pro- 
perty ;  and  events  soon  proved  that  he  had  told  the  truth. 
After  this  success  he  was  always  called  upon  to  advise  in 
obscure  and  difficult  cases. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  tell  his  exact  status  at  the  Prefec- 
ture. When  a  person  is  employed,  salary  or  compensation 
of  some  kind  is  understood :  but  this  strange  man  had  never 
consented  to  receive  a  penny.  What  he  did  he  did  for  his 
own  pleasure — for  the  gratification  of  a  passion  which  had 
become  his  very  life.  When  the  funds  allowed  him  for  ex- 
penses seemed  insufficient,  he  at  once  opened  his  private 
purse  ;  and  the  men  who  worked  with  him  never  went  away 
without  some  substantial  token  of  his  liberality.  Of  course, 
such  a  man  had  many  enemies.  He  did  as  much  work — 
and  far  better  work  than  any  two  inspectors  of  police ;  and 
he  didn't  receive  a  sou  of  salary.  Hence,  in  calling  him 
"  spoil-trade,"  his  rivals  were  not  far  from  right. 

Whenever  anyone  ventured  to  mention  his  name  favour- 
ably in  Gevrol's  presence,  the  jealous  inspector  could 
scarcely  control  himself,  and  retorted  by  denouncing  an  un- 
fortunate mistake  which  this  remarkable  man  once  made. 
Inclined  to  obstinacy,  like  all  enthusiastic  men,  he  had  in- 
deed once  effected  the  conviction  of  an  innocent  prisoner — 
a  poor  little  tailor,  who  was  accused  of  killing  his  wife. 
This  single  error  (a  grievous  one  no  doubt)  in  a  career  of 
some  duration,  had  the  effect  of  cooling  his  ardour  per 
ceptibly ;  and  subsequently,  he  seldom  visited  the  Prefec 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  247 

ture.  But  yet  he  remained  "  the  oracle,"  after  the  fashion 
of  those  great  advocates  who,  tired  of  practice  at  the  bar, 
still  win  great  and  glorious  triumphs  in  their  consulting 
rooms,  lending  to  others  the  weapons  they  no  longer  care 
to  wield  themselves. 

When  the  authorities  were  undecided  what  course  to  pur- 
sue in  some  great  case,  they  invariably  said  :  "  Let  us  go 
and  consult  Tirauclair."  For  this  was  the  name  by  which 
he  was  most  generally  known  :  a  sobriquet  derived  from  a 
phrase,  which  was  always  on  his  lips.  He  was  constantly 
saying :  "  II  faut  que  cela  se  tire  au  clair — That  must  be 
brought  to  light."  Hence,  the  not  altogether  unappropri- 
ate  appellation  of  "  Pere  Tirauclair,"  or  "  Father  Bring-to- 
Light." 

Perhaps  this  sobriquet  assisted  him  in  keeping  his  occu- 
pation secret  from  his  friends  among  the  general  public. 
At  all  events  they  never  suspected  them.  His  disturbed 
life  when  he  was  working  up  a  case,  the  strange  visitors  he 
received,  his  frequent  and  prolonged  absences  from 
home,  were  all  imputed  to  a  very  unseasonable  inclination 
to  gallantry.  His  concierge  was  deceived  as  well  as  his 
friends,  and  laughing  at  his  supposed  infatuation,  disre- 
spectfully called  him  an  old  libertine.  It  was  only  the  of- 
ficials of  the  detective  force  who  knew  that  Tirauclair  and 
Tabaret  were  one  and  the  same  person. 

Lecoq  was  trying  to  gain  hope  and  courage  by  reflect- 
ing on  the  career  of  this  eccentric  man,  when  the  buxom 
housekeeper  re-entered  the  library  and  announced  that  the 
physician  had  left.  At  the  same  time  she  opened  a  door 
and  exclaimed :  "  This  is  the  room ;  you  gentlemen  can 
enter  now." 

XXIII. 

ON  a  large  canopied  bed,  sweating  and  panting  beneath 
the  weight  of  numerous  blankets,  lay  the  two-faced  oracle 
— Tirauclair,  of  the  Prefecture — Tabaret,  of  the  Rue  Saint 
Lazare.  It  was  impossible  to  believe  that  the  owner  of 
such  a  face,  in  which  a  look  of  stupidity  was  mingled  with 
one  of  perpetual  astonishment,  could  possess  superior  tal- 
ent, or  even  an  average  amount  of  intelligence.  With  his 
retreating  forehead,  and  his  immense  ears,  his  odious  turn- 
up nose,  tiny  eyes,  and  coarse,  thick  lips,  M.  Tabaret 


248  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

seemed  an  excellent  type  of  the  ignorant,  penny-wise,  petty 
rentier  class.  Whenever  he  took  his  walks  abroad,  the 
juvenile  street  Arabs  would  impudently  shout  after  him  or 
try  to  mimic  his  favourite  grimace.  And  yet  his  ungainli- 
ness  did  not  seem  to  worry  him  in  the  least,  while  he  ap- 
peared to  take  real  pleasure  in  increasing  his  appearance 
of  stupidity,  solacing  himself  with  the  reflection  that  "  he 
is  not  really  a  genius  who  seems  to  be  one." 

At  the  sight  of  the  two  detectives,  whom  he  knew  very 
well,  his  eyes  sparkled  with  pleasure.  "  Good  morning, 
Lecoq,  my  boy,"  said  he,  "  Good-morning,  my  old  Absinthe. 
So  you  think  enough  down  there  of  poor  Papa  Tirauclair  to 
come  and  see  him  ?  " 

"  We  need  your  advice,  Monsieur  Tabaret." 

"  Ah,  ah  !  "' 

"  We  have  just  been  as  completely  outwitted  as  if  we 
were  babies  in  long  clothes." 

"  What !  was  your  man  such  a  very  cunning  fellow  ? " 

Lecoq  heaved  a  sigh.  "  So  cunning,"  he  replied,  "  that, 
if  I  were  superstitious,  I  should  say  he  was  the  devil 
himself." 

The  sick  man's  face  wore  a  comical  expression  of  envy. 
"  What !  you  have  found  a  treasure  like  that,"  said  he, 
"  and  you  complain  !  Why,  it  is  a  magnificent  opportunity 
— a  chance  to  be  proud  of  !  You  see,  my  boys,  everything 
has  degenerated  in  these  days.  The  race  of  great  crimi- 
nals is  dying  out — those  who've  succeeded  the  old  stock 
are  like  counterfeit  coins.  There's  scarcely  anything  left 
outside  a  crowd  of  low  offenders  who  are  not  worth  the  shoe 
leather  expended  in  pursuing  them.  It  is  enough  to  dis- 
gust a  detective,  upon  my  word.  No  more  trouble,  emo- 
tion, anxiety,  or  excitement.  When  a  crime  is  committed 
now-a-days,  the  criminal  is  in  jail  the  next  morning,  you've 
only  to  take  the  omnibus,  and  go  to  the  culprit's  house  and 
arrest  him.  He's  always  found,  the  more  the  pity.  But 
what  has  your  fellow  been  up  to  ? " 

"  He  has  killed  three  men." 

"  Oh  !  oh !  oh  ! "  said  old  Tabaret,  in  three  different 
tones,  plainly  implying  that  this  criminal  was  evidently 
superior  to  others  of  his  species.  "  And  where  did  this 
happen  ? " 

"  In  a  wine-shop  near  the  barriere." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  recollect ;  a  man  named  May.     The  mur 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  249 

ders  were  committed  in  the  Widow  Chupin's  cabin.  I 
saw  the  case  mentioned  in  the  Gazette  des  Tribunaux,  and 
your  comrade,  Fanferlot  1'Ecureuil,  who  comes  to  see  me, 
told  me  you  were  strangely  puzzled  about  the  prisoner's 
identity.  So  you  are  charged  with  investigating  the 
affair  ?  So  much  the  better.  Tell  me  all  about  it,  and  I 
will  assist  you  as  well  as  I  can." 

Suddenly  checking  himself,  and  lowering  his  voice, 
Tirauclair  added :  "  But  first  of  all,  just  do  me  the  favour 
to  get  up.  Now,  wait  a  moment,  and  when  I  motion  you, 
open  that  door  there,  on  the  left,  very  suddenly.  Mariette, 
my  housekeeper,  who  is  curiosity  incarnate  is  standing 
there  listening.  I  hear  her  hair  rubbing  against  the  lock. 
Now  ! " 

The  young  detective  immediately  obeyed,  and  Mariette, 
caught  in  the  act,  hastened  away,  pursued  by  her  master's 
sarcasms.  "  You  might  have  known  that  you  couldn't 
succeed  at  that !  "  he  shouted  after  her. 

Although  Lecoq  and  Father  Absinthe  were  much  nearer 
the  door  than  old  Tirauclair,  neither  of  them  had  heard  the 
slightest  sound ;  and  they  looked  at  each  other  in  aston- 
ishment, wondering  whether  their  host  had  been  playing  a 
little  farce  for  their  benefit,  or  whether  his  sense  of  hear- 
ing was  really  so  acute  as  this  incident  would  seem  to  in- 
dicate. 

"  Now,"  said  Tabaret,  settling  himself  more  comfortably 
upon  his  pillows — "  now  I  will  listen  to  you,  my  boy. 
Mariette  will  not  come  back  again." 

On  his  way  to  Tabaret's,  Lecoq  had  busied  himself  in 
preparing  his  story ;  and  it  was  in  the  clearest  possible 
manner  that  he  related  all  the  particulars,  from  the  mo- 
ment when  Gevrol  opened  the  door  of  the  Poivriere,  to  the 
instant  when  May  leaped  over  the  garden  wall  in  the  rear 
of  the  Hotel  de  Sairmeuse. 

While  the  young  detective  was  telling  his  story,  old 
Tabaret  seemed  completely  transformed.  His  gout  was 
entirely  forgotten.  According  to  the  different  phases  of 
the  recital,  he  either  turned  and  twisted  on  his  bed,  utter- 
ing little  cries  of  delight  or  disappointment,  or  else  lay 
motionless,  plunged  in  the  same  kind  of  ecstatic  reverie 
which  enthusiastic  admirers  of  classical  music  yield  them- 
selves up  to  while  listening  to  one  of  the  great  Beethoven's 
divine  sonatas. 


3$o  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

"  If  I  had  been  there  !  If  only  I  had  been  there  1  "  he 
murmured  regretfully  every  now  and  then  through  his  set 
teeth,  though  when  Lecoq's  story  was  finished,  enthusiasm 
seemed  decidedly  to  have  gained  the  upper  hand.  "  It  is 
beautiful !  it  is  grand  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  And  with  just 
that  one  phrase :  'It  is  the  Prussians  who  are  coming,' 
for  a  starting  point !  Lecoq,  my  boy,  I  must  say  that  you 
have  conducted  this  affair  like  an  angel  ! " 

"  Don't  you  mean  to  say  like  a  fool  ? "  asked  the  dis- 
couraged detective. 

"  No,  my  friend,  certainly  not.  You  have  rejoiced  my 
old  heart.  I  can  die ;  I  shall  have  a  successor.  Ah !  that 
Gevrol  who  betrayed  you — for  he  did  betray  you,  there's 
no  doubt  about  it — that  obtuse,  obstinate  '  General '  is  not 
worthy  to  blacken  your  shoes !  " 

"  You  overpower  me,  Monsieur  Tabaret !  "  interrupted 
Lecoq,  as  yet  uncertain  whether  his  host  was  poking  fun 
at  him  or  not.  "  But  it  is  none  the  less  true  that  May  has 
disappeared,  and  I  have  lost  my  reputation,  before  I  had 
begun  to  make  it." 

"  Don't  be  in  such  a  hurry  to  reject  my  compliments," 
replied  old  Tabaret,  with  a  horrible  grimace.  "  I  say  that 
you  have  conducted  this  investigation  very  well ;  but  it 
could  have  been  done  much  better,  very  much  better. 
You  have  a  talent  for  your  work,  that's  evident ;  but  you 
lack  experience  ;  you  become  elated  by  a  trifling  advan- 
tage, or  discouraged  by  a  mere  nothing ;  you  fail,  and  yet 
persist  in  holding  fast  to  a  fixed  idea,  as  a  moth  flutters 
about  a  candle.  Then,  you  are  young.  But  never  mind 
that,  it's  a  fault  you  will  outgrow  only  too  soon.  And 
now,  to  speak  frankly,  I  must  tell  you  that  you  have  made 
a  great  many  blunders." 

Lecoq  hung  his  head  like  a  schoolboy  receiving  a  repri- 
mand from  his  teacher.  After  all  was  he  not  a  scholar, 
and  was  not  this  old  man  his  master  ? 

"  I  will  now  enumerate  your  mistakes,"  continued  old 
Tabaret,  "  and  I  will  show  you  how,  on  at  least  three  occa- 
sions, you  allowed  an  opportunity  for  solving  this  mystery 
to  escape  you." 

"  But,—" 

"  Pooh  !  pooh !  my  boy,  let  me  talk  a  little  while  now. 
What  axiom  did  you  start  with  ?  You  said  :  '  Always  dis 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  251 

trust  appearances  ;  believe  precisely  the  contrary  of  what 
appears  true,  or  even  probable.'  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  exactly  what  I  said  to  myself." 

"  And  it  was  a  very  wise  conclusion.  With  that  idea  in 
your  lantern  to  light  your  path,  you  ought  to  have  gone 
straight  to  the  truth.  But  you  are  young,  as  I  said  before ; 
and  the  very  first  circumstance  you  find  that  seems  at  all 
probable,  you  quite  forget  the  rule  which,  as  you  yourself 
admit,  should  have  governed  your  conduct.  As  soon  as 
you  meet  a  fact  that  seems  even  more  than  probable,  you 
swallow  it  as  eagerly  as  a  gudgeon  swallows  an  angler's 
bait. 

This  comparison  could  but  pique  the  young  detective. 
"  I  don't  think  I've  been  so  simple  as  that,"  protested  he. 

"  Bah  !  What  did  you  think,  then,  when  you  heard  that 
M.  d'Escorval  had  broken  his  leg,  in  getting  out  of  his 
carriage  ? " 

"  Believe  !     I  believed  what  they  told  me,  because — " 

He  paused,  and  Tirauclair  burst  into  a  hearty  fit  of 
laughter.  "  You  believed  it,"  he  said,  "  because  it  was  a 
very  plausible  story." 

"  What  would  you  have  believed  had  you  been  in  my 
place  ?  " 

"  Exactly  the  opposite  of  what  they  told  me.  I  might 
have  been  mistaken ;  but  it  would  be  the  logical  conclu- 
sion af  my  first  course  of  reasoning." 

This  conclusion  was  so  bold  that  Lecoq  was  discon- 
certed. "  What !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  do  you  suppose  that 
M.  d'Escorval's  fall  was  only  a  fiction  ?  that  he  didn't 
break  his  leg  ?  " 

Old  Tabaret's  face  suddenly  assumed  a  serious  expres- 
sion. "  I  don't  suppose  it,"  he  replied ;  "  I'm  sure  of 
it." 

XXIV. 

LECOQ'S  confidence  in  the  oracle  he  was  consulting  was 
very  great ;  but  even  old  Tirauclair  might  be  mistaken, 
and  what  he  had  just  said  seemed  such  an  enormity,  so 
completely  beyond  the  bounds  of  possibility,  that  the 
young  man  could  not  conceal  a  gesture  of  incredulous 
surprise. 

"  So,  Monsieur  Tabaret,  you  are  ready  to  affirm  that  M. 


251  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

d'Escorval  is  in  quite  as  good  health  as  Father  Absinthe 
or  myself ;  and  that  he  has  confined  himself  to  his  room 
for  a  couple  of  months  to  give  a  semblance  of  truth  to  a 
falsehood  ? " 

"  I  would  be  willing  to  swear  it." 

"  But  what  could  possibly  have  been  his  object  ?  " 

Tabaret  lifted  his  hands  to  heaven,  as  if  imploring  for- 
giveness for  the  young  man's  stupidity.  "  And  it  was  in 
you,"  he  exclaimed,  "in  you  that  I  saw  a  successor,  a  dis- 
ciple to  whom  I  might  transmit  my  method  of  induction  ; 
and  now,  you  ask  me  such  a  question  as  that !  Reflect  a 
moment.  Must  I  give  you  an  example  to  assist  you  ? 
Very  well.  Let  it  be  so.  Suppose  yourself  a  magistrate. 
A  crime  is  committed ;  you  are  charged  with  the  duty  of 
investigating  it,  and  you  visit  the  prisoner  to  question  him. 
Very  well.  This  prisoner  has,  hitherto,  succeeded  in  con  • 
cealing  his  identity — this  was  the  case  in  the  present  in» 
stance,  was  it  not  ?  Very  well.  Now,  what  would  you  dq 
if,  at  the  very  first  glance,  you  recognized  under  the  pris- 
oner's disguise  your  best  friend,  or  your  worst  enemy  ? 
What  would  you  do,  I  ask  ?  " 

"  I  should  say  to  myself  that  a  magistrate  who  is  obliged 
to  hesitate  between  his  duty  and  his  inclinations,  is  placed 
in  a  very  trying  position,  and  I  should  endeavor  to  avoid 
the  responsibility." 

"  I  understand  that ;  but  would  you  reveal  this  prison- 
er's identity — remember,  he  might  be  your  friend  or  your 
enemy  ? " 

The  question  was  so  delicate  that  Lecoq  remained  silent 
for  a  moment,  reflecting  before  he  replied. 

The  pause  was  interrupted  by  Father  Absinthe.  "  I 
should  reveal  nothing  whatever ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  I 
should  remain  absolutely  neutral.  I  should  say  to  myself 
others  are  trying  to  discover  this  man's  identity.  Let 
them  do  so  if  they  can  ;  but  let  my  conscience  be  clear." 

This  was  the  cry  of  honesty  ;  not  the  counsel  of  a  cas- 
uist. 

"  I  also  should  be  silent,"  Lecoq  at  last  replied  ;  "  and 
it  seems  to  me  that,  in  holding  my  tongue,  I  should  not 
fail  in  my  duty  as  a  magistrate." 

On  hearing  these  words,  Tabaret  rubbed  his  hands  to- 
gether, as  he  always  did  when  he  was  about  to  present 
some  overwhelming  argument.  "  Such  being  the  case," 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  253 

said  he,  "  do  me  the  favour  to  tell  me  what  pretext  you 
would  invent  in  order  to  withdraw  from  the  case  without 
exciting  suspicion  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know ;  I  can't  say  now.  But  if  I  were  placed 
in  such  a  position  I  should  find  some  excuse — invent 
something " 

"And  if  you  could  find  nothing  better,"  interrupted 
Tabaret,  "  you  would  adopt  M.  d'Escorval's  expedient ; 
you  would  pretend  you  had  broken  a  limb.  Only,  as  you 
are  a  clever  fellow,  you  would  sacrifice  your  arm  it  would 
be  less  inconvenient  than  your  leg ;  and  you  wouldn't  be 
condemned  to  seclusion  for  several  months." 

"So,  Monseiur  Tabaret,  you  are  convinced  that  M. 
d'Escorval  knows  who  May  really  is." 

Old  Tirauclair  turned  so  suddenly  in  his  bed  that  his 
forgotten  gout  drew  from  him  a  terrible  groan.  "Can 
you  doubt  it  ?  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Can  you  possibly  doubt 
it  ?  What  proofs  do  you  want  then  ?  What  connection 
do  you  see  between  the  magistrate's  fall  and  the  prisoner's 
attempt  at  suicide  ?  I  wasn't  there,  as  you  were  ;  I  only 
know  the  story  as  you  have  told  it  to  me.  I  can't  look 
at  the  facts  with  my  own  eyes,  but  according  to  your 
statements,  which  are  I  suppose  correct,  this  is  what 
I  understand.  When  M.  d'Escorval  has  completed  his 
task  at  the  Widow  Chupin's  house,  he  comes  to  the  prison 
to  examine  the  supposed  murderer.  The  two  men  recog- 
ize  each  other.  Had  they  been  alone,  mutual  explanations 
migh  thave  ensued,  and  affairs  taken  quite  a  different  turn. 
But  they  were  not  alone  ;  a  third  party  was  present — M. 
d'Escorval's  clerk.  So  they  could  say  nothing.  The  mag- 
istrate asked  a  few  common-place  questions,  in  a  troubled 
voice,  and  the  prisoner,  terribly  agitated,  replied  as  best 
he  could.  Now,  after  leaving  the  ceil,  M.  d'Escorval  no 
doubt  said  to  himself :  '  I  can't  investigate  the  offenses  of 
a  man  I  hate  !  "  He  was  certainly  terribly  perplexed. 
When  you  tried  to  speak  to  him,  as  he  was  leaving  the 
prison,  he  harshly  told  you  to  wait  till  the  next  day ;  and 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  later  he  pretended  to  fall  down  and 
break  his  leg." 

"Then  you  think  that  M.  d'Escorval  and  May  are  ene- 
mies ?  "  inquired  Lecoq. 

"  Don't  the  facts  prove  that  beyond  a  doubt  ? "  retorted 
Tabaret.  "  If  they  had  been  friends,  the  magistrate  might 


254  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

have  acted  in  the  same  manner;  but  then  the  prisonei 
wouldn't  have  attempted  to  strangle  himself.  But  thanks 
to  you;  his  life  was  saved;  for  he  owes  his  life  to  you. 
During  the  night,  confined  in  a  straight-waistcoat,  he  was 
powerless  to  injure  himself.  Ah  !  how  he  must  have  suf- 
fered that  night !  What  agony !  So,  in  the  morning, 
when  he  was  conducted  to  the  magistrate's  room  for  exam- 
ination, it  was  with  a  sort  of  frenzy  that  he  dashed  into  the 
dreaded  presence  of  his  enemy.  He  expected  to  find  M. 
d'Escorval  there,  ready  to  triumph  over  his  misfortunes ; 
and  he  intended  to  say  :  '  Yes,  it's  I.  There  is  a  fatality 
in  it.  I  have  killed  three  men,  and  I  am  in  your  power. 
But  there  is  a  mortal  feud  between  us,  and  for  that  very 
reason  you  haven't  the  right  to  prolong  my  tortures  !  It 
would  be  infamous  cowardice  if  you  did  so.'  However, 
instead  of  M.  d'Escorval,  he  sees  M.  Segmuller.  Then 
what  happens  ?  He  is  surprised,  and  his  eyes  betray  the 
astonishment  he  feels  when  he  realizes  the  generosity  of 
his  enemy — an  enemy  from  whom  he  had  expected  no 
indulgence.  Then  a  smile  comes  to  his  lips — a  smile  of 
hope  ;  for  he  thinks,  since  M.  d'Escorval  has  not  betrayed 
his  secret,  that  he  may  be  able  to  keep  it,  and  emerge, 
perhaps,  from  this  shadow  of  shame  and  crime  with  his 
name  and  honour  still  untarnished." 

Old  Tabaret  paused,  and  then,  with  a  sudden  change  of 
tone  and  an  ironical  gesture,  he  added  :  "  And  that — is 
my  explanation." 

Father  Absinthe  had  risen,  frantic  with  delight.  "  Cris- 
ti !  "  he  exclaimed  :  "  that's  it !  that's  it !  " 

Lecoq's  approbation  was  none  the  less  evident  although 
unspoken.  He  could  appreciate  this  rapid  and  wonderful 
work  of  induction  far  better  than  his  companion. 

For  a  moment  or  two  old  Tabaret  reclined  upon  his 
pillows  enjoying  the  sweets  of  admiration ;  then  he  con- 
tinued :  "  Do  you  wish  for  further  proofs,  my  boy  ? 
Recollect  the  perseverance  M.  d'Escorval  displayed  in 
sending  to  M.  Segmuller  for  information.  I  admit  that  a 
man  may  have  a  passion  for  his  profession  ;  but  not  to 
such  an  extent  as  that.  You  believed  that  his  leg  was 
broken.  Then  were  you  not  surprised  to  find  a  magistrate, 
with  a  broken  limb,  suffering  mortal  anguish,  taking  such 
wonderful  interest  in  a  miserable  murderer  ?  I  haven't 
any  broken  bones,  I've  only  got  the  gout ;  but  I  know  very 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  255 

well  that  when  I'm  suffering,  half  the  world  might  be 
judging  the  other  half,  and  yet  the  idea  of  sending  Mariette 
for  information  would  never  occur  to  me.  Ah  !  a  moment's 
reflection  would  have  enabled  you  to  understand  the  rea- 
son of  his  solicitude,  and  would  probably  have  given  you 
the  key  to  the  whole  mystery." 

Lecoq,  who  was  such  a  brilliant  casuist  in  the  Widow 
Chupin's  hovel,  who  was  so  full  of  confidence  in  himself, 
and  so  earnest  in  expounding  his  theories  to  simple  Father 
Absinthe — Lecoq  hung  his  head  abashed  and  did  not 
utter  a  word.  But  he  felt  neither  anger  nor  impatience. 
He  had  come  to  ask  advice,  and  was  glad  that  it  should 
be  given  him.  He  had  made  many  mistakes,  as  he  now 
saw  only  too  plainly ;  and  when  they  were  pointed  out  to 
him  he  neither  fumed  nor  fretted,  nor  tried  to  prove  that 
he  had  been  right  when  he  had  been  wrong.  This  was 
certainly  an  excellent  trait  in  his  character. 

Meanwhile,  M.  Tabaret  had  poured  out  a  great  glass  of 
some  cooling  drink  and  drained  it.  He  now  resumed  : 
"  I  need  not  remind  you  of  the  mistake  you  made  in  not 
compelling  Toinon  Chupin  to  tell  you  all  she  knew  about 
this  affair  while  she  was  in  your  power.  '  A  bird  in  the 
hand  ' — you  know  the  proverb." 

"  Be  assured,  Monsieur  Tabaret,  that  this  mistake  has 
cost  me  enough  to  make  me  realize  the  danger  of  allowing 
a  well-disposed  witness's  zeal  to  cool  down." 

"  We  will  say  no  more  about  that,  then.  But  I  must  tell 
you  that  three  or  four  times,  at  least,  it  has  been  in  your 
power  to  clear  up  this  mystery." 

The  oracle  paused,  awaiting  some  protestation  from  his 
disciple.  None  came  however.  "  If  he  says  this,"  thought 
the  young  detective,  "  it  must  indeed  be  so." 

This  discretion  made  a  great  impression  on  old  Tabaret, 
and  increased  the  esteem  he  had  conceived  for  Lecoq. 
"  The  first  time  that  you  were  lacking  in  discretion,"  said 
he,  "  was  when  you  tried  to  discover  the  owner  of  the 
diamond  earring  found  at  the  Poivriere." 

"  I  made  every  effort  to  discover  the  last  owner." 

"  You  tried  very  hard,  I  don't  deny  it ;  but  as  for  making 
every  effort — that's  quite  another  thing.  For  instance, 
when  you  heard  that  the  Baroness  de  Watchau  was  dead, 
and  that  all  her  property  had  been  sold,  what  did  you 


256  MONSIEUR  LBCOQ. 

"  You  know ;  I  went  immediately  to  the  person  who  hafl 
charge  of  the  sale." 

"  Very  well !  and  afterwards  ?  " 

"I  examined  the  catalogue  ;  and  as,  among  the  jewels 
mentioned,  I  could  find  none  that  answered  the  descrip- 
tion of  these  diamonds,  I  knew  that  the  clue  was  quite 
lost." 

"  There  is  precisely  where  you  are  mistaken  !  "  exclaimed 
old  Tirauclair,  exultantly.  "  If  such  valuable  jewels  are 
not  mentioned  in  the  catalogue  of  the  sale,  the  Baroness 
de  Watchau  could  not  have  possessed  them  at  the  time  of 
her  death.  And  if  she  no  longer  possessed  them  she  must 
have  given  them  away  or  sold  them.  And  who  could  she 
have  sold  them  to  ?  To  one  of  her  lady  friends,  very 
probably.  For  this  reason,  had  I  been  in  your  place,  I 
should  have  found  out  the  names  of  her  intimate  friends ; 
this  would  have  been  a  very  easy  task  ;  and  then,  I  should 
have  tried  to  win  the  favour  of  all  the  lady's-maids  in  the 
service  of  these  friends.  This  would  have  only  been  a 
pastime  for  a  good-looking  young  fellow  like  you.  Then,  I 
should  have  shown  this  earring  to  each  maid  in  succession 
until  I  found  one  who  said :  '  That  diamond  belongs  to 
my  mistress,'  or  one  who  was  seized  with  a  nervous  tremb- 
ling." 

"And  to  think  that  this  idea  did  not  once  occur  to 
me  !  "  ejaculated  Lecoq. 

"  Wait,  wait,  I  am  coming  to  the  second  mistake  you 
made,"  retorted  the  oracle.  "  What  did  you  do  when  you 
obtained  possession  of  the  trunk  which  May  pretended 
was  his  ?  Why  you  played  directly  into  this  cunning  ad- 
versary's hand.  How  could  you  fail  to  see  that  this  trunk 
was  only  an  accessory  article  ;  a  bit  of  '  property '  got 
ready  in  '  mounting '  the  '  comedy.'  You  should  have 
known  that  it  could  only  have  been  deposited  with 
Madame  Milner  by  the  accomplice,  and  that  all  its  con- 
tents must  have  been  purchased  for  the  occasion." 

"  I  knew  this,  of  course  ;  but  even  under  these  circum- 
stances, what  could  I  do  ?  " 

"  What  could  you  do,  my  boy  ?  Well,  I  am  only  a  poor 
old  man,  but  I  should  have  interviewed  every  clothier  in 
Paris  ;  and  at  last  some  one  would  have  exclaimed  :  '  Those 
articles  !  Why  I  sold  them  to  an  individual  like  this  or 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  257 

that — who  purchased  them  for  one  of  his  friends  whos» 
measure  he  brought  with  him.'  " 

Angry  with  himself,  Lecoq  struck  his  clenched  hand 
violently  upon  the  table  beside  him.  "SacrebleuJ"  he 
exclaimed,  "  that  method  was  infallible,  and  so  simple 
too  !  Ah !  I  shall  never  forgive  myself  for  my  stupidity 
as  long  as  I  live  ! " 

"  Gently,  gently  !  "  interrupted  old  Tirauclair.  "  You 
are  going  too  far,  my  dear  boy.  Stupidity  is  not  the 
proper  word  at  all ;  you  should  say  carelessness,  thought- 
lessness. You  are  young — what  else  could  one  expect  ? 
What  is  far  less  inexcusable  is  the  manner  in  which  you 
conducted  the  chase,  after  the  prisoner  was  allowed  to 
escape." 

"  Alas !  "  murmured  the  young  man,  now  completely 
discouraged  ;  "  did  I  blunder  in  that  ? " 

"  Terribly,  my  son  ;  and  here  is  where  I  really  blame 
you.  What  diabolical  influence  induced  you  to  follow 
May,  step  by  step,  like  a  common  policeman  ? " 

This  time  Lecoq  was  stupefied.  "  Ought  I  to  have  al- 
lowed him  to  escape  me  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  No ;  but  if  I  had  been  by  your  side  in  the  gallery  of 
the  Odeon,  when  you  so  clearly  divined  the  prisoner's 
intentions,  I  should  have  said  to  you  :  '  This  fellow,  friend 
Lecoq,  will  hasten  to  Madame  Milner's  house  to  inform 
her  of  his  escape.  Let  us  run  after  him.'  I  shouldn't 
have  tried  to  prevent  his  seeing  her,  mind  :  But  when 
he  had  left  the  Hotel  de  Mariembourg,  I  should  have 
added  :  '  Now,  let  him  go  where  he  chooses  :  but  attach 
yourself  to  Madame  Milner ;  don't  lose  sight  of  her ;  cling 
to  her  as  closely  as  her  own  shadow,  for  she  will  lead 
you  to  the  accomplice — that  is  to  say — to  the  solution  of 
the  mystery.' " 

"  That's  the  truth ;  I  see  it  now." 

"  But  instead  of  that,  what  did  you  do  ?  You  ran  to 
the  hotel,  you  terrified  the  boy !  When  a  fisherman  has 
cast  his  bait  and  the  fish  are  swimming  near,  he  doesn't 
sound  a  gong  to  frighten  them  all  away  !  " 

Thus  it  was  that  old  Tabaret  reviewed  the  entire  course 
of  investigation  and  pursuit,  remodeling  it  in  accordance 
with  his  own  method  of  induction.  Lecoq  had  originally 
had  a  magnificent  inspiration.  In  his  first  investigation? 


258  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

he  had  displayed  remarkable  talent ;  and  yet  he  had  not 
succeeded.  Why !  Simply  because  he  had  neglected  the 
axiom  with  which  he  started  :  "  Always  distrust  what 
seems  probable ! " 

But  the  young  man  listened  to  the  oracle's  "  summing 
up"  with  divided  attention.  A  thousand  projects  were 
darting  through  his  brain,  and  at  length  he  could  no  longer 
restrain  himself.  "  You  have  saved  me  from  despair,"  he 
exclaimed,  "I  thought  everything  was  lost;  but  I  see  that 
my  blunders  can  be  repaired.  What  I  neglected  to  do,  I 
can  do  now ;  there  is  still  time.  Haven't  I  the  diamond 
earring,  as  well  as  various  effects  belonging  to  the  prisoner, 
still  in  my  possession.  Madame  Milner  still  owns  the 
Hotel  de  Mariembourg,  and  I  will  watch  her." 

"  And  what  for,  my  boy  ?  " 

"  What  for  ?     Why,  to  find  my  fugitive,  to  be  sure  ! " 

Had  the  young  detective  been  less  engrossed  with  his 
idea,  he  would  have  detected  a  slight  smile  that  curved 
Papa  Tirauclair's  thick  lips. 

"  Ah,  my  son  !  is  it  possible  that  you  don't  suspect  the 
real  name  of  this  pretended  buffoon  ? "  enquired  the  oracle 
somewhat  despondently. 

Lecoq  trembled  and  averted  his  face.  He  did  not  wish 
Tabaret  to  see  his  eyes.  "  No,"  he  replied,  "  I  don't  sus- 
pect  " 

"  You  are  uttering  a  falsehood !  "  interrupted  the  sick 
man.  "You  know  as  well  as  I  do,  that  May  resides  in 
the  Rue  de  Grenelle-Saint-Germain,  and  that  he  is  known 
as  the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse. 

On  hearing  these  words,  Father  Absinthe  indulged  in  a 
hearty  vaugh :  "  Ah !  that's  a  good  joke  1 "  he  exclaimed. 
"  Ah,  ha ! " 

Such  was  not  Lecoq's  opinion,  however.  "  Well,  yes, 
Monsieur  Tabaret,"  said  he,  "the  idea  did  occur  to  me ; 
but  I  drove  it  away." 

"  And  why,  if  you  please  ? " 

"  Because — because " 

"  Because  you  would  not  believe  in  the  logical  sequence 
of  your  premises ;  but  I  am  consistent,  and  I  say  that  it 
seems  impossible  the  murderer  arrested  in  the  Widow 
Chupin's  drinking  den  should  be  the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse. 
Hence,  the  murderer  arrested  there,  May,  the  pretended 
buffoon,  is  the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse  1 " 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  259 


XXV. 

How  this  idea  had  entered  old  Tabaret's  head,  Lecoq 
could  not  understand.  A  vague  suspicion  had,  it  is  true, 
flitted  through  his  own  mind ;  but  it  was  in  a  moment  of 
despair,  when  he  was  distracted  at  having  lost  May,  and 
when  certain  of  Couturier's  remarks  furnished  the  excuse 
for  any  ridiculous  supposition.  And  yet  now  Father 
Tirauclair  calmly  proclaimed  this  suspicion — which  Lecoq 
had  not  dared  seriously  to  entertain,  even  for  an  instant — 
to  be  an  undoubted  fact. 

"  You  look  as  if  you  had  suddenly  fallen  from  the  clouds," 
exclaimed  the  oracle,  noticing  his  visitor's  amazement. 
"  Do  you  suppose  that  I  spoke  at  random  like  a  parrot  ?" 

"  No,  certainly  not,  but " 

"  Hush !  You  are  surprised  because  you  know  nothing 
of  contemporary  history.  If  you  don't  wish  to  remain  all 
your  life  a  common  detective,  like  your  friend  Gevrol,  you 
must  read,  and  make  yourself  familiar  with  all  the  leading 
events  of  the  century." 

"  I  must  confess  that  I  don't  see  the  connection." 

M.  Tabaret  did  not  deign  to  reply.  Turning  to  Father 
Absinthe,  he  requested  the  old  detective,  in  the  most  affa- 
ble tones,  to  go  to  the  library  and  fetch  two  large  volumes 
entitled :  "  General  Biography  of  the  Men  of  the  Present 
Age,"  which  he  would  find  in  the  book-case  on  the  right. 
Father  Absinthe  hastened  to  obey ;  and  as  soon  as  the 
books  were  brought,  M.  Tabaret  began  turning  the  pages 
with  an  eager  hand,  like  a  person  seeking  some  word  in  a 
dictionary. 

"  Esbayron,"  he  muttered,  "  Escars,  Escayrac,  Escher, 
Escodica — at  last  we  have  it — Escorval !  Listen  atten- 
tively, my  boy,  and  you  will  be  enlightened." 

This  injunction  was  entirely  unnecessary.  Never  had 
the  young  detective's  faculties  been  more  keenly  on  the 
alert.  It  was  in  an  emphatic  voice  that  the  sick  man  then 
read :  "  Escorval  (Louis-Guillaume,  baron  d'). — Diploma- 
tist and  politician,  born  at  Montaignac,  December  3rd, 
1769,  of  an  old  family  of  lawyers.  He  was  completing 
his  studies  in  Paris  at  the  outbreak  of  the  Revolution  and 
embraced  the  popular  cause  with  all  the  ardour  of  youth. 
But,  soon  disapproving  the  excesses  committed  in  the 


26o  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

name  of  Liberty,  he  sided  with  the  Reactionists,  advised, 
perhaps,  by  Roederer,  who  was  one  of  his  relatives. 
Commended  to  the  favor  of  the  First  Consul  by  M.  de 
Talleyrand,  he  began  his  diplomatic  career  with  a  mission 
to  Switzerland ;  and  during  the  existence  of  the  first  empire 
he  was  entrusted  with  many  important  negotiations.  De- 
voted to  the  Emperor,  he  found  himself  gravely  com- 
promised at  the  advent  of  the  Second  Restoration.  At 
the  time  of  the  celebrated  rising  at  Montaignac,  he  was 
arrested  on  the  double  charge  of  high  treason  and  conspir- 
acy. He  was  tried  by  a  military  commission,  and  con- 
demned to  death.  The  sentence  was  not  executed,  how- 
ever. He  owed  his  life  to  the  noble  devotion  and  heroic 
energy  of  a  priest,  one  of  his  friends,  the  Abbe  Midon, 
cure  of  the  little  village  of  Sairmeuse.  The  baron  d'Es- 
corval  had  only  one  son,  who  embraced  the  judicial  pro- 
fession at  a  very  early  age." 

Lecoq  was  intensely  disappointed.  "  I  understand," 
he  remarked.  "  This  is  the  biography  of  our  magistrate's 
father.  Only  I  don't  see  that  it  teaches  us  anything." 

An  ironical  smile  curved  old  Tirauclair's  lips.  "  It 
teaches  us  that  M.  d'Escorval's  father  was  condemned  to 
death,"  he  replied.  "  That's  something,  I  assure  you.  A 
little  patience,  and  you  will  soon  know  everything." 

Having  found  a  new  leaf,  he  recommenced  to  read : 
"  Sairmeuse  (Anne-Marie-Victor  de  Tingry,  Duke  de). — A 
French  general  and  politician,  born  at  the  chateau  de  Sair- 
meuse, near  Montaignac,  in  1758.  The  Sairmeuse  family 
is  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  illustrious  in  France.  It 
must  not  be  confounded  with  the  ducal  family  of  Sermeuse, 
whose  name  is  written  with  an  '  e.'  Leaving  France  at  the 
beginning  of  the  Revolution,  Anne  de  Sairmeuse  began  by 
serving  in  the  army  of  Conde.  Some  years  later  he  offered 
his  sword  to  Russia  ;  and  it  is  asserted  by  some  of  his 
biographers  that  he  was  fighting  in  the  Russian  ranks  at 
the  time  of  the  disastrous  retreat  from  Moscow.  Returning 
to  France  with  the  Bourbons,  he  became  notorious  by  the 
intensity  of  his  ultra-royalist  opinions.  It  is  certain  that 
he  had  the  good  fortune  to  regain  possession  of  his  immense 
family  estates ;  and  the  rank  and  dignities  which  he  had 
gained  in  foreign  lands  were  confirmed.  Appointed  by 
the  king  to  preside  at  the  military  commission  charged  with 
arresting  and  trying  the  conspirators  of  Montaignac  his 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  t6i 

zeal  and  severity  resulted  in  the  capture  and  conviction 
of  all  the  parties  implicated." 

Lecoq  sprang  up  with  sparkling  eyes.  "  I  see  it  clearly 
now,"  he  exclaimed.  "  The  father  of  the  present  Duke 
de  Sairmeuse  tried  to  have  the  father  of  the  present  M. 
d'Escorval  beheaded." 

M.  Tabaret  was  the  picture  of  complacency.  "You 
see  the  assistance  history  gives,"  said  he.  "  But  I  have 
not  finished,  my  boy  ;  the  present  Duke  de  Sairmeuse 
also  has  his  article  which  will  be  of  interest  to  us.  So 
listen  :  Sairmeuse  (Anne-Marie-Martial) — Son  of  the  pre- 
ceding, was  born  in  London  towards  the  close  of  the 
last  century ;  received  his  early  education  in  England, 
and  completed  it  at  the  Court  of  Austria,  which  he  sub- 
sequently visited  on  several  confidential  missions.  Heir 
to  the  opinions,  prejudices,  and  animosities  of  his  father, 
he  placed  at  the  service  of  his  party  a  highly  cultivated 
intellect,  unusual  penetration,  and  extraordinary  abilities. 
A  leader  at  a  time  when  political  passion  was  raging 
highest,  he  had  the  courage  to  assume  the  sole  responsi- 
bility of  the  most  unpopular  measures.  The  hostility  he 
encountered,  however,  eventually  obliged  him  to  retire 
from  office,  leaving  behind  him  animosities  likely  to  ter- 
minate only  with  his  life." 

The  sick  man  closed  the  book,  and  with  assumed 
modesty,  he  asked  :  "  Ah,  well !  What  do  you  think  of 
my  little  method  of  induction  ? " 

But  Lecoq  was  too  much  engrossed  with  his  own 
thoughts  to  reply  to  this  question.  "  I  think,"  he  re- 
marked, "  that  if  the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse  had  disappeared 
for  two  months — the  period  of  May's  imprisonment,  all 
Paris  would  have  known  of  it — and  so " 

"You  are  dreaming,"  interrupted  Tabaret.  "Why 
with  his  wife  and  his  valet  de  chambre  for  accomplices, 
the  duke  could  absent  himself  for  a  year  if  he  liked,  and 
yet  all  his  servants  would  believe  him  to  be  in  the  house." 

"  I  admit  that,"  said  Lecoq,  at  last :  "  but  unfortu- 
nately, there  is  one  circumstance  which  completely  up- 
sets the  theory  we  have  built  up  so  laboriously." 

"  And  what  is  that  if  you  please  ?  " 

"  If  the  man  who  took  part  in  the  broil  at  the  Poivriere 
had  been  the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse,  he  would  have  dis- 
cloted  [his  name — he  would  have  declared  that,  having 


262  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

been  attacked,  he  had  only  defended  himself — and  his 
name  alone  would  have  opened  the  prison-doors.  Instead 
of  that,  what  did  the  prisoner  do  ?  He  attempted  to 
kill  himself.  Would  a  grand  seigneur,  like  the  Duke  de 
Sairmeuse,  to  whom  life  must  be  a  perpetual  enchant- 
ment, have  thought  of  committing  suicide  ?  " 

A  mocking  whistle  from  old  Tabaret  interrupted  the 
speaker.  "  You  seem  to  have  forgotten  the  last  sentence 
in  his  biography :  '  M.  Sairmeuse  leaves  behind  him 
ill-will  and  hatred.'  Do  you  know  the  price  he  might 
have  been  compelled  to  pay  for  his  liberty  1  No — no 
more  do  I.  To  explain  his  presence  at  the  Poivriere, 
and  the  presence  of  a  woman,  who  was  perhaps  his  wife, 
who  knows  what  disgraceful  secrets  he  would  have  been 
obliged  to  reveal  ?  Between  shame  and  suicide,  he  chose 
suicide.  He  wished  to  save  his  name  and  honour  intact." 

Old  Tiraculair  spoke  with  such  vehemence  that  even 
Father  Absinthe  was  deeply  impressed,  although,  to  tell 
the  truth,  he  had  understood  but  little  of  the  conversation. 

As  for  Lecoq,  he  rose  very  pale,  his  lips  trembling  a 
little.  "You  will  excuse  my  hypocrisy,  Monsieur  Tab- 
aret," he  said  in  an  agitated  voice.  "  I  only  offered 
these  last  objections  for  form's  sake.  I  had  thought  of 
what  you  now  say,  but  I  distrusted  myself,  and  I  wanted 
to  hear  you  say  it  yourself."  Then  with  an  imperious  ges- 
ture, he  added  :  "  Now,  I  know  what  I  have  to  do." 

Old  Tabaret  raised  his  hands  toward  heaven  with 
every  sign  of  intense  dismay.  "  Unhappy  man  !  "  he  ex- 
claimed ;  "  do  you  think  of  going  to  arrest  the  Duke  de 
Sairmeuse !  Poor  Lecoq !  Free,  this  man  is  alnost 
omnipotent,  and  you,  an  infinitesimal  agent  of  police, 
would  be  shattered  as  easily  as  glass.  Take  care,  my 
boy,  don't  attack  the  duke.  I  wouldn't  be  responsible 
for  the  consequences.  You  might  imperil  your  life." 

The  young  detective  shook  his  head.  "  Oh !  I  don't 
deceive  myself,"  said  he.  "  I  know  that  the  duke  is  far 
beyond  my  reach — at  least  for  the  present.  But  he  will 
be  in  my  power  again,  the  day  I  learn  his  secret.  I  don't 
fear  danger  ;  but  I  know,  that  if  I  am  to  succeed,  I  must 
conceal  myself,  and  so  I  will.  Yes,  I  will  remain  in  the 
shade  until  I  can  unveil  this  mystery ;  but  then  I  shall  re- 
appear in  my  true  character.  And  if  May  be  really  th« 
Duke  de  Sairmeuse,  I  shall  have  my  revenge." 


PART  II. 

THE   HONOR   OF   THE   NAME. 
I. 

ON  the  first  Sunday  in  the  month  of  August,  1815,  at 
ten  o'clock  precisely,  the  sacristan  of  the  parish  church  of 
Sairmeuse  gave,  according  to  custom,  three  successive 
pulls  at  the  bell — placed  high  in  the  tower  above — to  warn 
the  faithful  that  the  priest  was  about  to  ascend  the  steps 
of  the  altar  to  celebrate  high  mass.  The  church  was 
already  more  than  half  full,  and  from  every  side  came 
groups  of  peasants,  hurrying  towards  the  church-yard. 
The  women  were  all  in  their  bravest  attire,  with  dainty 
'kerchiefs  crossed  upon  their  breasts,  broad-striped, 
brightly  coloured  skirts,  reaching  to  their  ankles,  and 
large  white  caps  set  upon  their  heads.  Being  of  an  eco- 
nomical mind,  although  coquettish,  they  mostly  came  bare- 
footed, carrying  their  shoes  in  their  hands,  and  only  put- 
ling  them  on  as  they  were  about  to  enter  the  house  of 
worship. 

But  few  of  the  men  went  into  the  church.  They  re- 
mained outside  to  talk,  seating  themselves  in  the  porch, 
or  standing  about  the  yard,  in  the  shade  of  the  grand  old 
elms.  For  such  was  the  custom  in  the  village  of  Sair- 
meuse. The  two  hours  which  the  women  consecrated  to 
prayer  the  men  employed  in  discussing  the  news,  the  suc- 
cess or  failure  of  the  crops ;  and,  before  the  service  came 
to  a  close,  they  could  generally  be  found,  glass  in  hand,  in 
the  long  public  room  of  the  village  hostelry. 

For  the  farmers  for  a  league  around,  Sunday  mass  at 
Sairmeuse  was  only  an  excuse  for  meeting  together  to 


264  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

hold,  as  it  were,  a  kind  of  weekly  exchange.  Since  the 
re-establishment  of  religion  all  the  cures  who  had  been 
successively  stationed  at  Sairmeuse  had  endeavoured  to 
put  an  end  to  this  scandalous  habit  of  turning  God's  area 
into  an  exchange,  but  all  their  efforts  had  proved  unavail- 
ing. The  obstinate  peasantry  would  only  make  one  con- 
cession. At  the  moment  of  the  elevation  of  the  host,  all 
voices  outside  the  church  were  hushed,  heads  uncovered, 
and  a  few  of  the  less  sceptical  farmers  even  bowed  the 
knee,  and  made  the  sign  of  a  cross.  But  this  was  the 
affair  of  an  instant  only,  and  then  conversation  anent 
crops,  cattle,  wine,  wood,  and  so  on  was  resumed  with  in- 
creased vivacity. 

But  on  that  particular  Sunday  in  August  the  usual 
animation  was  wanting ;  and  the  comments  exchanged 
among  little  knots  of  villagers  gathered  here  and  there 
among  the  tombstones  under  the  trees  were  scarcely 
audible.  Ordinarily  there  would  have  been  no  dearth  of 
noisy  discussions  between  the  various  buyers  and  sellers 
— discussions  well  nigh  interminable,  and  punctuated  at 
frequent  intervals  with  some  loud  spoken  popular  oath, 
such  as  "  By  my  faith  in  God  !  "  or  "  May  the  devil  burn 
me ! "  To-day,  however,  the  farmers  were  not  talk 
ing,  they  were  whispering  together.  Each  face  was 
sad ;  lips  were  placed  cautiously  at  each  listener's 
ear ;  and  anxiety  could  be  read  in  every  eye.  Evi- 
dently, some  great  misfortune  had  occurred. 

In  point  of  fact,  only  a  month  had  elapsed  since  Louis 
XVIII.  had  been,  for  the  second  time,  installed  at  the 
Tuileries  by  the  efforts  of  a  triumphant  coalition.  The 
earth  had  scarcely  had  time,  to  imbibe  the  blood  that  had 
flowed  at  Waterloo ;  twelve  hundred  thousand  foreign 
soldiers  desecrated  the  soil  of  France  ;  and  a  Prussian 
general  was  Governor  of  Paris. 

The  peasantry  of  Sairmeuse  trembled  with  indignation 
and  fear.  This  king,  brought  back  by  the  allies,  was  no 
less  to  be  dreaded  than  the  allies  themselves.  To  these 
non-political  country  folks,  the  great  name  of  Bourbon 
only  signified  a  terrible  burden  of  taxation  and  oppression. 
Above  all,  it  signified  ruin — for  there  were  scarcely  one 
among  them  who  had  not  purchased  from  the  government 
of  the  revolution  or  the  Empire,  some  patch  of  the  land 
confiscated  after  Oe  downfall  of  Louis  XVI. ;  and  now  it 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  265 

was  currently  reported  that  all  the  estates  would  have  to 
be  surrendered  to  the  former  landowners,  who  had  emi- 
grated when  the  Bourbons  were  overthrown. 

Hence,  it  was  with  feverish  curiosity  that  most  of  the 
Sairmeuse  peasants  clustered  round  a  young  man  who, 
only  two  days  before,  had  returned  from  the  army.  With 
tears  of  rage  in  his  eyes,  he  was  recounting  the  shame  and 
misery  of  the  invasion.  He  described  the  pillage  at  Ver- 
sailles, the  exactions  at  Orleans,  and  the  pitiless  re- 
quisitions of  the  allied  army. 

"  And  these  cursed  foreigners  to  whom  the  traitors  have 
delivered  us,  will  remain  here,"  he  exclaimed,  "  as  long  as 
there's  a  sou  and  a  bottle  of  wine  left  in  France ! "  So 
speaking,  he  shook  his  clenched  fist  menacingly  at  a  white 
flag  that  floated  from  the  tower  of  the  church. 

His  generous  anger  won  the  close  attention  of  his 
audience,  who  were  still  listening  to  him  with  undiminished 
interest,  when  the  sound  of  a  horse's  hoofs  resounded  on 
the  stones  of  the  one  long  street  of  Sairmeuse.  A  shud- 
der passed  through  the  crowd,  and  the  same  fear  slack- 
ened the  beating  of  every  heart.  Who  could  say  but  what 
this  rider  was  not  some  English  or  Prussian  officer,  who 
had  come  perhaps  to  announce  the  arrival  of  his  regiment, 
and  to  demand,  with  all  a  conqueror's  harshness,  money, 
food,  and  clothing  for  his  men  ? 

But  the  snspense  was  not  of  long  duration.  Instead  of 
a  uniform  the  rider  wore  a  soiled  blue  blouse,  and  in  lieu 
of  a  charger  with  military  trappings,  he  bestrode  a  saddle- 
less,  bony,  nervous  little  mare,  covered  with  foam,  which 
he  was  urging  forward  with  repeated  blows  of  an  improvised 
whip. 

"  Ah  !  it's  Father  Chupin,"  murmured  one  of  the  pea- 
sants with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  The  same,"  observed  another.  "  He  seems  to  be  in 
a  terrible  hurry." 

"  The  old  rascal  has  probably  stolen  the  horse  he  is 
riding,"  remarked  a  third. 

This  last  remark  revealed  the  reputation  that  the  rider 
of  the  saddleless  mare  enjoyed  among  his  neighbours.  He 
was,  in  fact,  one  of  those  rascals  who  are  the  scourge  and 
terror  of  rural  districts.  He  pretended  to  be  a  day- 
labourer,  but  in  reality  he  held  all  work  in  holy  horror, 
and  spent  most  of  his  time  idling  about  his  hovel.  Indeed* 


266  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

he  and  his  wife  and  their  two  sons — terrible  youths  who, 
somehow,  had  escaped  the  conscription — lived  entirely  by 
theft.  Everything  they  consumed  was  stolen ;  wheat, 
wine,  fuel,  fruits — all  being  the  property  of  others,  while 
poaching  and  fishing  in  closed  time  furnished  them  with 
ready  money.  Every  one  in  the  neighbourhood  was  aware 
of  this  ;  and  yet  when  Father  Chupin  was  pursued  and 
captured,  as  occasionally  happened,  no  one  could  ever  be 
found  to  testify  against  him. 

"  He's  such  a  dangerous  fellow,"  the  peasantry  re- 
marked. "  If  any  one  denounced  him,  why  on  leaving 
prison  he  would  simply  lie  in  ambush  and  send  an  ounce 
of  lead  into  his  enemy's  brains." 

While  the  farmers  assembled  in  the  churchyard  were 
thus  exchanging  comments  concerning  him,  the  rider  of 
the  saddleless  mare  had  drawn  rein  in  front  of  the  local 
hostelry — the  inn  of  the  Bceuf  Couronne  or  Crowned  Bull. 
Alighting  from  his  steed  and  crossing  the  square  he 
walked  towards  the  church. 

He  was  a  tall  man  of  fifty  or  thereabouts,  and  as  gnarled 
and  sinewy  as  the  stem  of  some  ancient  vine.  At  the  first 
glance  he  would  not  have  been  taken  for  a  scoundrel,  for 
his  demeanour  was  humble  and  even  gentle.  The  rest- 
lessness of  his  eyes  and  the  expression  of  his  thin  lips  be- 
trayed  however,  a  spirit  of  diabolical  cunning  and  calcu- 
lation. At  any  other  moment  this  half  despised,  half 
dreaded  individual  would  have  been  avoided ;  but  curi- 
osity and  anxiety  now  led  the  crowd  toward  him. 

"  Ah,  well,  Father  Chupin  !  "  cried  the  peasants,  as  soon 
as  he  was  within  hearing,  "  where  do  you  come  from  in 
such  a  tremendous  haste  ?  " 

"  From  the  city."  To  the  inhabitants  of  Sairmeuse  and 
its  environs  "  the  city  "  meant  the  chief  town  of  the  arron- 
dissement,  Montaignac,  a  charming  sub-prefecture  of  eight 
thousand  souls,  about  four  leagues  distant.  "And  did 
you  buy  the  horse  you  were  riding  just  now  at  Mon- 
taignac ?  " 

"  I  didn't  buy  it  :  it  was  lent  to  me. " 

Coming  from  such  a  rascal  this  was  so  strange  an  as- 
sertion  that  his  listeners  could  not  repress  a  smile.  He 
did  not  seem,  however,  to  notice  their  incredulity. 

"  It  was  lent  me,"  he  continued,  "  in  order  that  I  might 
bring  some  great  news  here  as  quickly  as  possible." 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  i&j 

For  a  moment  a  vague  fear  struck  the  inquisitive 
fanners  dumb.  "  Is  the  enemy  in  the  city  ?  "  one  of  the 
more  timid  eventually  inquired  in  an  anxious  tone. 

"  Yes,  but  not  the  enemy  you  mean.  The  new  arrival  is 
our  old  lord  of  the  manor,  his  grace  the  Duke  de  Sair- 
meuse." 

"  What !  why  people  said  he  was  dead." 

"  They  were  mistaken." 

"  Have  you  seen  him  ? " 

"  No,  I  have  not  seen  him,  but  some  one  else  has  seen 
him  for  me,  and  has  spoken  to  him.  And  this  some  one 
is  M.  Laugeron,  the  landlord  of  the  Hotel  de  France  at 
Montaignac.  I  was  passing  the  house  this  morning,  when 
he  called  me.  '  Here  old  fellow,'  said  he,  '  will  you  do  me 
a  favour  ? '  Naturally  I  replied  I  would,  whereupon  he 
placed  a  coin  in  my  hand  and  said  :  '  Well  go  round  to 
the  stable  and  tell  them  to  saddle  a  horse  for  you,  then 
gallop  to  Sairmeuse  as  fast  as  you  can  and  tell  my  friend 
Lacheneur  that  the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse  arrived  here  last 
night  in  a  post-chaise,  with  his  son  Monsieur  Martial,  and 
two  servants.'  "  Father  Chupin  paused.  "  The  news  was 
important,"  said  he.  "  And  as  there  wasn't  an  ostler  in 
the  stable  and  I  couldn't  find  a  saddle  I  came  here  as 
quickly  as  I  could  on  the  beast's  bare  back." 

The  peasants  were  listening  with  pale  cheeks  and  set 
teeth,  and  Father  Chupin  strove  to  preserve  the  subdued 
mien  appropriate  to  a  messenger  of  misfortune.  But  if 
one  had  observed  him  carefully,  a  swiftly  repressed  smile 
of  irony  might  have  been  detected  on  his  lips,  and  a  gleam 
of  malicious  joy  in  his  eyes.  He  was  in  fact,  inwardly 
jubilant,  for  at  that  moment  he  was  having  his  revenge  for 
all  the  slights  and  all  the  scorn  he  had  been  forced  to  en- 
dure. And  what  a  revenge  it  was  !  If  his  words  seemed 
to  fall  slowly  and  reluctantly  from  his  lips,  it  was  only 
because  he  was  trying  to  prolong  the  sufferings  of  his  au- 
dience as  much  as  possible. 

However,  a  stalwart  young  peasant,  with  an  intelligent 
face,  who,  perhaps,,  read  the  old  rascal's  secret  heart, 
brusquely  interrupted  him.  "  What  can  we  care  for  the 
presence  of  the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse  at  Montaignac  ? "  said 
he.  "  Let  him  remain  at  the  Hotel  de  France  as  long  as 
he  chooses  r  \ve  shan't  go  in  search  of  him." 


268  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

"  No  !  we  shan't  go  in  search  of  him,"  echoed  the  other 
peasants  approvingly. 

The  old  rogue  shook  his  head  with  affected  commiser- 
ation. "  The  duke  will  not  put  you  to  that  trouble,  "  he 
replied  ;  "  he  will  be  here  in  less  than  a  couple  of  hours." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  I  know  it  through  M.  Laugeron,  who,  just  as  I  was 
starting,  said,  '  Above  all  old  man,  explain  to  my  friend 
Lacheneur  that  the  duke  has  ordered  horses  to  be  ready 
to  take  him  to  Sairmeuse  at  eleven  o'clock.'  " 

"  With  a  common  impulse  all  the   peasants  who  had 
watches  consulted  them." 

"  And  what  does  he  want  here  ? "  asked  the  same  young 
farmer  who  had  spoken  before. 

"  Excuse  me  but  he  didn't  tell  me,"  replied  Father  Chu- 
pin,  "  though  one  need  not  be  very  cunning  to  guess.  He 
comes  to  revisit  his  former  estates,  and  to  take  them 
from  those  who  have  purchased  them,  if  possible.  From 
you,  Rousselet,  he  will  claim  the  meadows  on  the 
Giselle,  which  always  yield  two  crops ;  from  you 
Father  Gauchais,  the  ground  on  which  the  Croix-Brulee 
stands  :  from  you,  Chalouineau,  the  vineyards  on  the  Bor- 
derie " 

Chalouineau  was  the  impetuous  young  fellow  who  had 
twice  interrupted  Father  Chupin  already.  "  Claim  the 
Borderie  !  "  he  exclaimed,  with  even  greater  vrolence  than 
before,  "  let  him  try — and  we'll  see.  It  was  waste  land 
when  my  father  bought  it — covered  with  briers  ;  why  a  goat 
couldn't  have  found  pasture  there.  We  have  cleared  it  of 
stones,  we  have  scratched  up  the  soil  with  our  very  nails, 
watered  it  with  our  sweat,  and  now  this  duke  wants  to  take 
it  from  us !  Ah !  he  shall  have  my  last  drop  of  blood 
first." 

"  I  don't  say  but " 

"  But  what  ?  Is  it  any  fault  of  ours  if  the  nobles  fled  to 
foreign  lands  ?  We  haven't  stolen  their  lands,  have  we  ? 
The  government  offered  them  for  sale  ;  we  bought  them, 
and  paid  for  them  ;  they  are  lawfully  ours." 

"  That's  true ;  but  M.  de  Sairmeuse  is  the  great  friend 
of  the  king." 

The  young  soldier  whose  voice  had  aroused  the  most 
noble  sentiments  only  a  moment  before,  was  now  no 
longer  remembered.  Invaded  France,  the  threatening  en- 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  969 

emy,  were  alike  forgotten.     The  all-powerful  instinct  of 
avarice  had  been  suddenly  aroused. 

"  In  my  opinion,"  resumed  Chalouineau,  "we  had  better 
consult  the  Baron  d'Escorval." 

"  Yes,  yes  !  "  exclaimed  the  peasants ;  "  let  us  go  at 
once !  " 

They  were  starting,  when  a  villager  who  sometimes  read 
the  papers,  checked  them  with  the  remark.  "  Take  care 
what  you  are  about.  Don't  you  know  that  since  the  re- 
turn of  the  Bourbons  M.  d'Escorval  is  of  no  account  what- 
ever ?  Fouche  has  him  on  the  proscription  list,  and  he  is 
under  the  surveillance  of  the  police." 

This  objection  dampened  the  general  enthusiasm. 
-"  That's  true,"  murmured  some  of  the  older  men,  "  a  visit 
to  M.  d'Escorval  would,  perhaps,  do  us  more  harm  than 
good.  And,  besides,  what  advice  could  he  give  us  ? " 

Chalouineau  had  forgotten  all  prudence.  "  What  of 
that ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  If  M.  d'Escorval  has  no  advice  to 
give  us  about  this  matter,  he  can,  perhaps,  teach  us  how  to 
resist  and  to  defend  ourselves." 

For  some  moments  Father  Chupin  had  been  studying, 
with  a  placid  countenance,  the  storm  of  anger  he  had 
aroused.  In  his  secret  heart  he  experienced  an  incendi- 
ary's satisfaction  at  the  sight  of  the  flames  he  had  kindled, 
perhaps  he  already  had  a  presentiment  of  the  infamous 
part  he  would  play  a  few  months  later.  However,  satis- 
fied with  his  experiment,  he  now  thought  fit  to  assume  the 
role  of  moderator. 

"  Wait  a  little.  Don't  cry  before  you  are  hurt,"  he  ex- 
claimed in  an  ironical  tone.  "  Who  told  you  that  the  Duke 
de  Sairmeuse  would  trouble  you  ?  How  much  of  his  for- 
mer domain  do  you  all  own  between  you  ?  Almost  nothing. 
A  few  fields  and  meadows,  and  a  hill  on  the  Borderie. 
All  these  together  didn't  yield  him  five  thousand  livres  a 
year  in  the  old  days." 

"  Yes,  that's  true,"  replied  Chalouineau ;  "  and  if  the 
revenue  you  mention  is  now  four  times  as  much  it  is  only 
because  the  land  is  in  the  hands  of  forty  farmers  who  cul- 
tivate it  themselves." 

"  Which  is  another  reason  why  the  duke  is  not  likely  to 
say  a  word ;  he  won't  wish  to  set  the  whole  district  in  com- 
motion. In  my  opinion  he  will  only  proceed  against  one 
person — against  our  late  mayor — M.  Lacheneur  in  short." 


270  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

Ah !  the  wily  poacher  knew  only  too  well  the  egotism  of 
his  compatriots.  He  knew  with  what  complacency  and 
eagerness  they  would  accept  an  expiatory  victim  whose 
sacrifice  would  be  their  salvation. 

"  That's  a  fact,"  remarked  an  old  man  ;  "  M.  Lacheneur 
owns  nearly  all  the  Sairmeuse  property." 

"  Say  all,  while  you  are  about  it,"  rejoined  Father  Chu- 
pin.  "  Where  does  M.  Lacheneur  live  ?  Why  in  the 
beautiful  Chateau  de  Sairmeuse,  whose  towers  we  can  see 
there  through  the  trees.  He  hunts  in  the  forests  which 
once  belonged  to  the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse ;  he  fishes  in  their 
lakes ;  he  drives  the  horses  that  once  belonged  to  them, 
seated  in  the  carriages  on  which  one  might  still  see  their 
coat  of  arms,  if  it  hadn't  been  painted  out.  Twenty  years 
ago,  Lacheneur  was  a  poor  devil  like  myself ;  now  he's  a 
grand  gentleman  with  a  princely  income.  He  wears  the 
finest  broad-cloth  and  top-boots  just  like  the  Baron  d'Es- 
corval.  Instead  of  working  himself  he  makes  others  work 
for  him,  and  when  he  passes  by  every  one  must  bow  to  the 
earth.  If  you  kill  so  much  as  a  sparrow  on  his  lands  he 
will  have  you  thrown  into  prison.  Ah,  he  has  been  a  lucky 
fellow.  The  emperor  made  him  mayor.  The  Bourbons 
deprived  him  of  his  office ;  but  what  does  that  matter  to 
him  ?  He  is  still  the  real  master  here,  just  as  the  dukes 
were  in  other  days.  His  son  is  pursuing  his  studies  in  Paris, 
with  the  intention  of  becoming  a  notary.  As  for  his 
daughter,  Mademoiselle  Marie-Anne " 

"  Not  a  word  against  her  !  "  exclaimed  Chalouineau ;  "  if 
she  were  mistress,  there  wouldn't  be  a  poor  man  in  the 
neighborhood.  Ask  your  wife  if  that  isn't  the  case,  Father 
Chupin." 

This  was  an  affront  which  the  rascal  Chupin  would  never 
forget  as  long  as  he  lived ;  still  for  the  moment  he  swal- 
lowed it  without  any  show  of  outward  resentment.  "  I  don't 
say  that  Mademoiselle  Marie-Anne  is  not  generous,"  he 
replied  with  affected  humility,  "  but  after  all  her  charitable 
work,  she  has  plenty  of  money  left  for  her  fine  dresses 
and  other  fancies.  I  think  M.  Lacheneur  might  be  very 
well  content  to  give  the  duke  back  half  or  even  three-quar- 
ters of  the  property  he  acquired  no  one  ever  knew  how. 
He  would  still  have  enough  left  to  grind  the  poor  under 
foot." 

After  appealing  to  selfishness,  Father  Chupin  now  ap- 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  271 

pealed  to  envy.  There  could  be  no  doubt  of  his  success. 
But  he  had  no  time  to  pursue  his  advantage.  Mass  was 
over,  and  the  worshipers  were  leaving  the  church.  Soon 
there  stood  on  the  threshold  of  the  porch  the  man  he  had 
alluded  to — M.  Lacheneur — mayor  of  Sairmeuse  in  the 
days  of  the  vanquished  emperor.  A  young  girl  of  daz- 
zling beauty  leant  upon  his  arm.  Father  Chupin  walked 
straight  towards  him  and  brusquely  delivered  his  message. 
M.  Lacheneur  sta^srered  beneath  the  blow.  He  turned 

oo 

first  so  red,  and  then  so  frightfully  pale,  that  those  around 
him  thought  he  was  about  to  fall.  But  he  quickly  recov- 
ered his  self-possession,  and  without  a  word  to  the  messen- 
ger, walked  rapidly  away  leading  his  daughter  with  him. 

Some  minutes  later  an  old  post-chaise,  drawn  by  four 
horses,  dashed  through  the  village  at  a  gallop,  and  paused 
before  the  cure's  house.  Then  one  might  have  witnessed  a 
singular  spectacle.  Father  Chupin  had  gathered  his  wife 
and  sons  together,  and  the  four  surrounded  the  carriage, 
shouting  with  all  the  power  of  their  lungs : 

"  Long  live  the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse  1 " 


II. 

A  GENTLY  inclined  road,  more  than  two  miles  in  length 
shaded  by  a  quadruple  row  of  venerable  elms  leads  from 
the  village  to  the  Chateau  de  Sairmeuse.  Nothing  could 
be  more  beautiful  than  this  avenue,  a  fit  approach  to  a 
palace ;  and  the  stranger  who  beheld  it  would  at  once  un- 
derstand the  popular  proverb  of  the  district :  "  He  does 
not  know  the  real  beauty  of  France,  who  has  never  seen 
Sairmeuse  nor  the  Giselle."  The  Giselle  is  a  little  river 
crossed  by  a  wooden  bridge  on  leaving  the  village,  and  the 
clear  rapid  waters  of  which  give  a  delicious  freshness  to 
the  valley.  At  every  step  as  one  ascends  the  avenue  the 
view  changes.  It  is  as  if  an  enchanting  panorama  were 
being  slowly  enrolled  before  one.  On  the  right  the  saw- 
pits  of  Fereol  and  the  wind-mills  of  La  Reche  may  be  per- 
ceived. On  the  left  the  tree-tops  of  the  forest  of  Dolomieu 
tremble  in  the  breeze.  Those  imposing  ruins  across  the 
river  are  all  that  remain  of  the  feudal  castle  of  the  house 
of  Breulh.  That  red  brick  mansion,  with  granite  trimmings, 
half  concealed  by  a  bend  in  the  stream,  belongs  to  the 


2;a  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

+» 

Baron  d'Escorval.  And  if  the  day  is  clear,  one  can  easily 
distinguish  the  spires  of  Montaignac  in  the  distance. 

This  was  the  road  taken  by  M.  Lacheneur  after  Chupin 
had  delivered  his  message.  But  what  did  the  late  mayor 
of  Sairmeuse  care  for  the  beauties  of  the  landscape  !  Stand- 
ing under  the  church  porch  he  had  received  his  death 
wound ;  and  now,  with  a  tottering  step,  he  dragged  himself 
along  like  some  poor  soldier,  mortally  wounded  upon  the 
field  of  battle,  who  searches  for  a  ditch  or  quiet  nook  where 
to  lie  down  and  die.  He  seemed  to  have  lost  all  thought 
of  the  surroundings — all  consciousness  of  previous  events. 
He  pursued  his  way,  lost  in  his  reflections,  and  guided 
only  by  force  of  habit.  Two  or  three  times  his  daughter, 
who  was  walking  by  his  side,  tried  to  speak  to  him  •  but  an 
"  Ah  !  let  me  alone ! "  uttered  in  a  harsh  tone,  was  the 
only  reply  she  obtained.  Evidently  M.  Lacheneur  had  re- 
ceived a  terrible  blow ;  and  undoubtedly,  as  often  happens 
under  such  circumstances,  the  unfortunate  man  was  re- 
viewing all  the  different  phases  of  his  life. 

At  twenty  he  was  only  a  poor  ploughboy  in  the  service 
of  the  Sairmeuse  family.  His  ambition  was  modest  then ; 
and  stretched  beneath  a  tree  at  the  hour  of  noonday  rest 
he  indulged  in  dreams  as  simple  as  his  calling.  "  If  I 
could  but  amass  a  hundred  pistoles,"  he  thought,  "  I 
would  ask  Father  Barrois  for  the  hand  of  his  daughter 
Martha  ;  and  he  wouldn't  refuse  me." 

A  hundred  pistoles  !  A  thousand  francs  ! — an  enormous 
sum  for  one  who,  during  two  years  of  toil  and  privation 
had  only  laid  by  eleven  louis,  placed  carefully  in  a  tiny 
box  and  hidden  in  the  depth  of  his  straw  mattress.  Still, 
he  did  not  despair,  for  he  had  read  in  Martha's  eyes  that 
she  would  wait.  And  Mademoiselle  Armande  de  Sair- 
meuse, a  rich  old  maid,  was  his  godmother;  and  he 
thought,  if  he  attracted  her  adroitly,  that  he  might,  per- 
haps, interest  her  in  his  love  affafr. 

Then  suddenly  the  terrible  storm  of  the  Revolution 
burst  over  France.  With  the  fall  of  the  first  thunderbolts, 
the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse  left  France  with  the  Count 
d'Arrois.  They  took  refuge  in  foreign  lands  much  after 
the  same  fashion  as  a  passer-by  might  seek  shelter  in  a 
doorway  from  a  summer  shower,  saying  to  himself  :  "  This 
will  not  last  long."  The  storm  did  last,  however,  and  the 
following  year  Mademoiselle  Armande,  who  had  remained 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  275 

at  Sairmeuse,  died.  The  chateau  was  then  closed,  the 
president  of  the  district  took  possession  of  the  keys  in  the 
name  of  the  government,  and  the  servants  became  scat- 
tered in  various  parts. 

Lacheneur  took  up  his  residence  in  Montaignac.  Young, 
daring,  and  personally  attractive,  blessed  with  an  energetic 
face,  and  an  intelligence  far  above  his  station,  it  was  not 
long  before  he  became  well  known  in  the  political  clubs. 
For  three  months  indeed  Lacheneur  was  the  virtual  dic- 
tator of  Montaignac. 

But  this  profession  of  public  agitator  is  seldom  lucra- 
tive ;  hence  the  surprise  throughout  the  district  was  im- 
mense, when  people  learned  that  the  former  ploughboy 
had  purchased  the  chateau,  and  almost  all  the  land  be- 
longing to  his  former  masters.  It  is  true  that  the  nation 
had  sold  this  princely  domain  for  scarcely  a  twentieth  part 
of  its  real  value.  It  had  been  valued  at  sixty-nine  thou- 
sand francs.  To  sell  it  for  so  beggarly  an  amount  was 
equivalent  to  giving  it  away.  And  yet,  it  was  necessary 
to  have  this  sum,  and  strange  to  say  the  apparently  penni- 
less Lacheneur  possessed  it,  since  he  had  poured  a  flood 
of  beautiful  louis  d'or  into  the  hands  of  the  receiver  of  the 
district. 

From  that  moment  his  popularity  waned.  The  patriots 
who  had  applauded  the  ploughboy  cursed  the  capitalist. 
He  discreetly  left  his  former  friends  to  recover  from  their 
rage  as  best  they  could,  and  returned  to  Sairmeuse. 
There  every  one  bowed  low  before  Citoyen  Lacheneur. 
Unlike  most  people,  he  did  not  forget  his  past  hopes  at  the 
moment  when  they  might  be  realized.  He  married  Martha 
Barrels,  and  leaving  the  country  to  work  out  its  own  salva- 
tion without  his  assistance,  he  gave  his  time  and  attention 
to  agriculture. 

Any  close  observer  in  those  days  would  have  surmised 
that  the  man  was  bewildered  by  the  sudden  change  in  his 
situation.  His  manner  was  so  troubled  and  anxious  that, 
to  see  him,  he  would  have  been  taken  for  a  servant  in  con- 
stant fear  of  being  detected  in  some  indiscretion.  At  first 
he  did  not  open  the  chateau,  but  installed  himself  and  his 
young  wife  in  the  cottage  formerly  occupied  by  the  head 
gamekeeper,  near  the  entrance  of  the  park.  But,  little  by 
little,  with  the  habit  of  possession  came  assurance.  The 
Consulate  had  succeeded  the  Directory,  the  Empire  sue- 
18 


$74 

ceeded  the  Consulate,  and  Citoyen  Lacheneur  became 
Monsieur  Lacheneur.  Appointed  mayor  two  years  later, 
he  left  the  cottage  and  took  possession  of  the  chateau. 
The  former  ploughboy  slept  in  the  bed  of  the  Dukes  de 
Sairmeuse  ;  he  ate  off  the  massive  plate  bearing  their  es- 
cutcheon ;  and  he  received  his  visitors  in  the  same  mag- 
nificent suite  of  rooms  where  the  proud  peers  had  received 
their  friends  in  the  years  gone  by. 

To  those  who  had  known  him  in  former  days,  M.  Lach- 
eneur had  become  unrecognizable.  He  had  adapted  him 
self  to  his  lofty  station.  Blushing  at  his  own  ignorance, 
he  had  had  the  courage — wonderful  in  one  of  his  age — to 
acquire  the  education  which  he  lacked.  Then  all  his  un- 
dertakings were  successful  to  such  a  degree  that  his  good 
luck  had  become  proverbial.  It  sufficed  for  him  to  take 
any  part  in  an  enterprise  for  it  to  turn  out  well.  The 
blessings  of  wedded  life,  moreover,  were  not  denied  him, 
for  his  wife  had  given  him  two  lovely  children,  a  son  and 
a  daughter ;  while  on  the  other  hand  his  property,  man- 
aged with  a  shrewdness  and  sagacity  the  former  owners 
had  not  possessed,  yielded  a  princely  income. 

How  many  under  similar  circumstances  would  have  lost 
their  heads  !  But  Lacheneur  retained  all  his  habitual 
coolness.  In  spite  of  the  luxury  that  surrounded  him,  his 
own  habits  continued  simple  and  frugal.  He  never  had 
an  attendant  for  his  own  person.  His  large  income  was 
almost  entirely  consecrated  to  the  improvement  of  the  es- 
tate or  to  the  purchase  of  more  land.  And  yet  he  was  not 
avaricious.  In  all  that  concerned  his  wife  or  children  he 
did  not  count  the  cost.  His  son,  Jean,  had  been  educated 
in  Paris,  for  he  wished  him  to  be  fitted  for  any  position. 
Unwilling  to  consent  to  a  separation  from  his  daughter,  he 
had  entrusted  her  to  the  care  of  a  resident  governess. 
Sometimes  his  friends  accused  him  of  an  inordinate  ambi 
tion  for  his  children  ;  but  at  any  such  remarks  he  would 
sadly  shake  his  head  and  reply,  "  All  I  want  is  to  ensure 
them  a  modest  and  comfortable  future,  though  it  is  folly 
indeed  to  count  upon  the  time  to  come.  Thirty  years  ago, 
who  could  have  foreseen  that  the  Sairmeuse  family  would 
ever  be  deprived  of  their  estates  ?  " 

With  such  opinions  he  should  have  been  a  good  master-, 
and  such  he  was,  though  no  one  ever  thought  better  of 
him  on  that  account.  His  former  comrades  could  no/ 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  675 

forgive  him  for  his  sudden  elevation,  and  seldom  spoke  of 
him  without  wishing  his  ruin  in  ambiguous  language. 

Alas  !  evil  days  were  to  come.  Towards  the  close  of 
the  year  1812,  he  lost  his  wife  :  while  the  disasters  of  1813 
swept  away  a  large  portion  of  his  personal  fortune,  in- 
vested in  a  manufacturing  enterprise.  At  the  advent  of 
the  first  Restoration,  he  was  obliged  to  conceal  himself  for 
a  time  ;  and  to  cap  the  climax  the  conduct  of  his  son,  who 
was  still  in  Paris,  caused  him  serious  disquietude.  He  al- 
ready believed  himself  the  most  unfortunate  of  men,  and 
now  here  was  another  misfortune  threatening  him — a  mis- 
fortune so  terrible  that  all  the  others  were  forgotten  in  the 
contemplation  of  it.  Twenty  years  had  elapsed  since  the 
day  he  had  purchased  Sairmeuse.  Twenty  years  !  And 
yet  it  seemed  to  him  only  yesterday  that,  blushing  and 
trembling,  he  had  laid  those  piles  of  louis  d'or  on  the  desk 
of  the  district  receiver.  Had  he  dreamed  it  ?  No  he  had 
not  dreamed  it.  His  whole  life,  with  its  struggles  and 
miseries,  its  hopes  and  fears,  its  unexpected  joys  and 
blighted  hopes  passed  in  review  before  him. 

Lost  in  these  memories,  he  had  quite  forgotten  the 
present  situation,  when  a  commonplace  incident,  more 
powerful  than  his  daughter's  voice,  brought  him  back  to 
the  threatening  reality.  The  park  gate  leading  to  the 
Chateau  de  Sairmeuse,  to  his  chateau,  was  locked.  He 
shook  it  violently  in  a  fit  of  rage,  and  being  unable  to 
break  the  lock,  found  some  relief  in  breaking  the  bell. 

On  hearing  the  noise,  a  gardener  hastened  to  the  spot. 

"  Why  is  this  gate  closed  ?  "  demanded  M.  Lacheneur, 
with  unwonted  violence  of  manner.  "  By  what  right  do 
you  barricade  my  house  when  I,  the  master,  am  out  of 
doors  ?  " 

The  gardener  tried  to  make  some  excuse.  "  Hold  your 
tongue  !  "  interrupted  his  master.  "  I  dismiss  you ;  you 
are  no  longer  in  my  service." 

Leaving  the  bewildered  gardener  to  his  astonishment, 
he  walked  on  through  the  pleasure  grounds — past  the 
velvet  lawns  fringed  with  summer  flowers  and  dense 
patches  of  shrubbery.  In  the  vestibule,  paved  and  pan- 
elled with  mosaics  of  marble,  three  of  his  tenants  sat  await- 
ing him,  for  it  was  on  Sunday  that  he  always  received 
those  farmers  who  desired  to  confer  with  him.  The  three 


276  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

iven  rose  at  his  approach,  and  deferentially  doffed  their 
hats.  But  he  did  not  give  them  time  to  utter  a  word. 

"  Who  allowed  you  to  enter  here  ?  "  he  said  in  a  savage 
voice,  "  and  what  do  you  desire  ?  They  sent  you  to  play 
the  spy  on  me,  did  they?  Well,  get  out  now  and  at 
once !  " 

The  three  farmers  were  even  more  bewildered  than  the 
gardener  had  been,  and  exchanged  many  comments  of 
dismay.  But  M.  Lacheneur  did  not  hear  them.  Throw- 
ing open  a  sculptured  door  he  had  dashed  into  the  grand 
saloon  followed  by  his  frightened  daughter. 

Never  had  Marie- Anne  seen  her  father  in  such  a  mood ; 
and  she  fairly  trembled,  affected  for  the  moment  by  the 
most  terrible  presentiments.  She  had  heard  it  said  that 
under  the  influence  of  some  dire  calamity  men  have 
sometimes  suddenly  lost  their  reason,  and  she  was  won- 
dering if  her  father  had  become  insane.  Many  might 
really  have  supposed  that  such  was  the  case,  for  his  eyes 
flashed,  his  lips  twitched  and  convulsive  shudders  shook 
his  entire  frame.  He  made  the  circuit  of  the  drawing- 
room  as  a  wild  beast  makes  the  circuit  of  its  cage,  uttering 
harsh  imprecations  and  making  frenzied  gestures.  His  ac- 
tions were  quite  incomprehensible.  Sometimes  he  seemed 
to  be  trying  the  thickness  of  the  carpet  with  the  toe  of  his 
boot,  and  sometimes  he  threw  himself  on  to  a  chair  or  a 
sofa  as  if  to  test  their  softness.  Occasionally  he  paused 
abruptly  before  one  of  the  valuable  pictures  that  covered 
the  walls,  of  before  some  precious  bronze ;  and  one  might 
have  supposed  him  to  be  taking  an  inventory,  and  apprais- 
ing all  the  marvels  of  art  and  upholstery  which  decorated 
this  apartment,  the  most  sumptuous  in  the  chateau. 

"  And  I  must  renounce  all  this !  "  he  exclaimed  at  last. 
"  No,  never !  never !  never !  I  cannot !  I  will  not !  " 

Now,  Marie-Anne  was  in  a  measure  enlightened.  But 
still  she  did  not  exactly  know  what  was  passing  in  her 
father's  mind.  Anxious  for  information  she  left  the  low 
chair  on  which  she  had  been  sitting  and  went  to  his  side. 
"  Are  you  ill,  father  ?  "  she  asked,  in  her  sweetest  voice ; 
"  what  is  the  matter  ?  What  do  you  fear  ?  Why  don't  you 
confide  in  me — am  I  not  your  daughter  ?  Don't  you  love 
me  any  longer  ?  " 

At  the  sound  of  this  dear  voice,  M.  Lacheneur  trembled 
like  a  sleeper  suddenly  aroused  from  the  terrors  of  night 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  277 

mare,  and  cast  an  indescribable  glance  upon  his  daughter. 
"  Did  you  not  here  what  Chupin  said  to  me  ?  "  he  replied 
slowly.  "  The  Duke  de  Sairmeuse  is  at  Montaignac — he 
will  soon  be  here ;  and  we  are  dwelling  in  the  chateau  of 
his  fathers,  and  his  domain  has  become  ours !  " 

Marie-Anne  was  well  acquainted  with  this  vexed  ques- 
tion of  the  national  lands,  a  question  which  agitated 
France  for  thirty  years,  for  she  had  heard  it  discussed  a 
thousand  times.  "  Ah,  well !  dear  father,"  said  she,  "  what 
does  that  matter,  even  if  we  do  hold  the  property  ?  You 
have  bought  it  and  paid  for  it,  haven't  you  ?  So  it  is 
rightfully  and  lawfully  ours." 

M.  Lacheneur  hesitated  a  moment  before  replying.  He 
had  a  secret  which  suffocated  him;  and  was  in  one  of 
those  crises  in  which  a  man,  however  strong,  totters  and 
seeks  for  any  support  however  fragile.  "  You  would  be 
right,  my  daughter,"  he  murmured  with  drooping  head, 
"  if  the  money  I  gave  in  exchange  for  Sairmeuse  had  really 
belonged  to  me." 

At  this  strange  avowal  the  young  girl  turned  pale  and 
recoiled  a  step.  "  What  ?  "  she  faltered ;  "  the  gold  wasn't 
yours,  father  ?  Who  did  it  belong  to  then  ?  where  did  it 
come  from  ?  " 

The  unhappy  man  had  gone  too  far  to  retract.  "  I  will 
tell  you  everything,  my  dear  girl,"  he  replied,  "  and  you 
shall  be  my  judge.  You  shall  decide  everything.  When 
the  Sairmeuse  family  fled  from  France,  I  had  only  my 
hands  to  depend  upon,  and  as  it  was  almost  impossible  to 
obtain  work,  I  wondered  if  starvation  were  not  near  at 
hand.  Such  was  my  condition  when  some  one  came  one 
evening  to  tell  me  that  Mademoiselle  Armande  de  Sair- 
meuse, my  godmother,  was  dying,  and  wished  to  speak 
\yith  me.  I  ran  to  the  chateau.  The  messenger  had  told 
the  truth.  Mademoiselle  Armande  was  sick  unto  death. 
I  felt  aware  of  this  when  I  saw  her  lying  on  the  bed, 
whiter  than  wax.  Ah  !  if  I  were  to  live  a  hundred  years, 
I  should  never  forget  the  look  that  was  on  her  face.  It 
seemed  to  express  a  determination  to  hold  death  at  bay 
until  some  task  on  which  she  had  resolved  had  been  per 
formed.  When  I  entered  the  room  she  seemed  relieved. 
'  How  long  you  were  in  coming ! '  she  murmured.  I  was 
about  to  make  some  excuse,  when  she  motioned  me  to 
pause,  and  ordered  her  nurses,  to  leave  the  room,  A* 


.  2?8  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

soon  as  we  were  alone,  '  You  are  an  honest  boy,'  said  she, 
'  and  I  am  about  to  give  you  a  proof  of  my  confidence. 
People  believe  me  to  be  poor,  but  they  are  mistaken. 
While  my  relatives  were  gaily  ruining  themselves,  I  was 
saving  the  five  hundred  louis  which  the  duke  allowed  me 
every  year.'  So  saying  she  motioned  me  to  come  nearei, 
and  kneel  beside  her  bed.  I  obeyed,  and  then  Mademoi- 
selle Armande  leant  towards  me,  fixed  her  lips  to  my  ear, 
and  added  :  *  I  have  saved  eighty  thousand  francs.'  I 
felt  a  sudden  giddiness,  but  my  godmother  didn't  notice  it. 
'  This  amount,'  she  continued,  '  is  not  a  quarter  of  the 
former  income  from  our  family  estates.  But  now,  who 
knows  one  day  it  may  be  the  only  resource  of  the  Sair- 
meuses.  I  am  going  to  place  it  in  your  charge,  Lacheneur. 
I  confide  it  to  your  honour  and  devotion.  The  estates 
belonging  to  the  emigrants  are  to  be  sold,  I  hear.  If  such 
an  act  of  injustice  is  committed,  you  will  probably  be  able 
to  purchase  our  property  for  seventy  thousand  francs.. 
If  the  property  is  sold  by  the  government,  purchase  it ; 
but  if  the  lands  belonging  to  the  emigrants  are  not  sold, 
take  seventy  thousand  francs  to  the  duke,  my  nephew,  who 
is  with  the  Count  d'Artois.  The  surplus,  that  is  to  say, 
the  ten  thousand  francs  remaining,  I  give  to  you — they 
are  yours.'  When  saying  this  she  seemed  to  recover  her 
strength.  She  raised  herself  up  in  bed,  and  holding  the 
crucifix  attached  to  her  rosary  against  my  lips,  she  added, 
'  Swear  by  the  image  of  our  Saviour,  that  you  will  faith- 
fully execute  your  dying  godmother's  last  will.'  I  took 
the  required  oath,  and  an  expression  of  satisfaction  over- 
spread her  features." 

M.  Lacheneur  paused.  The  recollection  of  this  scene 
plainly  produced  a  deep  impression  on  his  mind.  "In 
continuation, '"'  he  said,  "  Madamoiselle  Armande,  then 
told  me  she  should  die  content.  '  You  will  have  a  protec- 
tor on  high,'  she  said.  '  But  this  is  not  all.  In  times  like 
these,  this  gold  will  not  be  safe  in  your  hands  unless  those 
about  you  are  ignorant  that  you  possess  it.  It  is  here  in 
this  cupboard  at  the  head  of  my  bed,  in  a  small  oak  chest, 
which  you  must  manage  to  remove  without  being  seen.  If 
you  went  out  with  it  in  your  arms,  people  might  wonder 
by-and-by  what  it  contained.  The  best  plan  would  be  to 
fasten  a  sheet  round  it,  and  let  it  down  gently  from  the 
window  into  the  garden.  You  must  then  leave  the  house 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  379 

as  you  entered  it,  and  as  soon  as  you  are  outside,  you  must 
cake  the  box  and  carry  it  home.  The  night  is  very  dark, 
and  no  one  will  see  you,  if  you  are  careful.  But  make 
haste ;  my  strength  is  nearly  gone.'  I  did  as  Mademoi- 
selle Armande  suggested,  and  less  than  ten  minutes  after- 
wards I  had  lowered  the  box  into  the  garden  without  the 
slightest  noise.  Closing  the  window,  I  exclaimed, '  I  have 
done  your  bidding  godmother.'  'God  be  praised/  she 
whispered, '  Sairmeuse  is  saved  ! '  I  heard  a  deep  sigh, 
and  turning  round  found  that  she  was  dead." 

M.  Lacheneur  shuddered  as  he  uttered  these  last 
words.  His  emotion  was  intense,  and  for  a  moment  he 
could  not  speak.  Eventually,  in  a  hollow  voice,  he  ex- 
claimed :  "  I  called  for  aid — it  came.  Mademoiselle 
Armande  was  loved  by  every  one  ;  there  was  great  lamen- 
tation, and  half-an-hour  of  indescribable  confusion.  I  was 
able  to  withdraw,  unnoticed,  to  run  into  the  garden,  and 
carry  away  the  box.  An  hour  later,  it  was  concealed  in 
the  miserable  hovel  I  inhabited,  and  the  following  year  I 
purchased  Sairmeuse." 

The  unfortunate  man  paused  again,  he  had  confessed 
everything,  and  now  stood  trembling  in  front  of  his  daugh 
ter  trying  to  read  his  sentence  in  her  eyes. 

"  And  can  you  hesitate  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Ah !  you  don't  know — " 

"  I  know  that  Sairmeuse  must  be  given  up." 

This  was  also  the  counsel  of  his  own  conscience,  that 
faint  voice  which  speaks  only  in  a  whisper,  but  which  all 
the  tumult  on  earth  cannot  overpower.  Still  he  hesitated. 
"  No  one  saw  me  take  away  the  chest,"  he  faltered.  "  If 
any  one  suspected  it,  there  is  not  a  single  proof  against 
me.  But  no  one  does  suspect  it." 

Marie- Anne  rose,  her  eyes  flashing  with  indignation. 
"  Father  !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  Oh  !  father !  If  others  know 
nothing  about  it,  can  you  forget  it  ?  " 

M.  Lacheneur  did  not  immediately  reply.  He  seemed 
to  be  inwardly  wrestling  with  himself.  "  Restitution,"  he  at 
last  exclaimed.  "  Yes,  then  I  will  make  restitution.  I 
restitute  what  I  received.  I  will  give  the  Duke  the  eighty 
thousand  francs,  with  the  interest  on  the  amount  ever 
since  I  have  had  it  in  my  hands,  and  then  we  shall  be 
quits  !  " 

Marie-Anne  shook  her  head.     "  Why  resort  to  an  un 


a8o  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

worthy  subterfuge  ? "  she  asked  in  a  gentle  voice.  "  You 
know  perfectly  well  that  it  was  Sairmeuse  itself  that 
Mademoiselle  Armande  wished  to  intrust  to  the  servant  of 
her  house.  And  it  is  Sairmeuse  which  must  be  returned." 

The  word  "  servant  "  was  revolting  to  a  man,  who,  at 
least  while  the  empire  lasted,  had  been  a  power  in  the 
land.  "  Ah  !  Marie,  you  are  cruel,"  he  replied  with  in- 
tense bitterness,  "  as  cruel  as  a  child  who  has  never 
suffered — as  cruel  as  one  who,  never  having  been  tempted 
himself  is  without  mercy  for  those  who  have  yielded  to 
temptation.  You  tell  me  that  I  was  but  a  trustee,  and  so 
indeed  I  formerly  considered  myself.  If  your  dear  mother 
were  still  alive,  she  would  tell  you  the  anxiety  and  anguish 
I  felt  on  becoming  the  master  of  riches  which  were  not  mine. 
I  was  afraid  of  myself.  I  felt  like  some  gambler  to  whom 
the  winnings  of  others  have  been  confided.  Your  mother 
could  tell  you  that  I  moved  heaven  and  earth  to  find  the 
Duke  de  Sairmuese.  But  he  had  left  the  Count  d'Artois, 
and  no  one  knew  where  he  had  gone  or  what  had  become 
of  him.  Ten  wears  passed  before  I  could  make  up  my 
mind  to  inhabit  the  chateau — yes,  ten  years — during  which 
I  had  the  furniture  dusted  each  morning  as  if  the  master 
was  to  return  that  very  evening.  At  last  I  ventured.  I  heard 
M.  d'Escorval  declare  that  the  duke  had  been  killed  in 
battle.  So  I  took  up  my  abode  here ;  and  day  after  day 
as  the  domain  of  Sairmeuse  grew  more  productive  and  ex- 
tensive under  my  care,  I  felt  myself  more  and  more  its 
rightful  owner." 

This  fresh  plea — this  despairing  appeal  on  behalf  of  a 
bad  cause  produced  no  impression  on  Marie-Anne's  loyal 
heart.  "  Restitution  must  be  made,"  she  repeated. 

Her  father  wrung  his  hands.  "  Without  mercy !  "  he 
exclaimed ;  "  she  is  without  mercy.  Unfortunate  girl ! 
doesn't  she  understand  that  it  is  for  her  sake  I  wish  to 
remain  where  I  am.  I  am  old ;  familiar  with  toil  and 
poverty ;  and  my  hands  are  still  hard  and  horny.  What 
do  I  need  to  keep  me  alive  till  the  time  comes  to  lay  me 
in  the  grave-yard  ?  A  crust  of  bread  and  an  onion  in  the 
morning,  a  bowl  of  soup  at  night,  and  a  bundle  of  straw  to 
sleep  on.  I  could  easily  return  to  that.  But  you,  unhap- 
py child !  and  your  brother,  what  will  become  of  you 
both?" 

?'We  must  pot  discuss  nor  haggle  with  duty,  father," 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  tSi 

replied  Marie-Anne.  "  I  think,  however,  that  you  are  need- 
lessly alarmed.  I  believe  the  duke  is  too  noble-hearted 
ever  to  allow  you  to  want  after  the  immense  service  you 
have  rendered  him." 

The  former  ploughboy  of  the  house  of  Sairmeuse  laughed 
a  loud,  bitter  laugh.  "  You  believe  that !  "  said  he. 
"  Then  you  don't  know  the  nobles  who  have  been  our 
masters  for  ages.  My  only  reward  will  be  some  callous 
phrase, "  You're  a  worthy  fellow,"  or  something  of  the 
kind,  uttered  just  for  form's  sake  ;  and  you  will  see  us — 
me  at  my  plough,  and  you  out  at  service.  And  if  I  ven- 
ture to  speak  of  the  ten  thousand  francs  that  were  given 
me,  I  shall  be  treated  like  an  impostor  or  an  impudent 
fool.  I  swear  this  shall  not  be  !  " 

"  Oh,  father !  " 

"No!  this  shall  not  be.     And   I   realize — as  you  can^ 
not  realize — the  disgrace  of  such  a  fall.     You  think  you 
are  beloved  in  Sairmeuse  ?     You  are  mistaken.     We  have 
been  too  fortunate  not  to  be  the  victims  of  hatred  and 
jealousy.      If   I   fall   to-morrow,  those   who   kissed   your/ 
hands  yesterday  will  be  ready  to  tear  you  to  pieces  !  " 

Lacheneur's  eyes  glittered  ;  he  believed  he  had  found  a 
victorious  argument.  "  And  then,"  resumed  he,  "  you, 
yourself,  will  realize  the  horror  of  the  disgrace.  It  will 
cost  you  the  deadly  anguish  of  separating  from  the  man 
your  heart  has  chosen  ? " 

At  these  words  Marie-Anne's  beautiful  eyes  filled  with 
tears.  "  If  what  you  say  proves  true,  father,"  she  mur- 
mured, in  an  altered  voice,  "  I  may,  perhaps,  die  of  sor- 
row ;  but  I  shall  have  to  realize  that  my  confidence  and 
love  were  misplaced." 

"  And  you  still  insist  upon  my  returning  Sairmeuse  to  its 
former  owner  ? " 

"  Honour  demands  it,  father." 

M.  Lacheneur  struck  the  chair  in  which  he  was  seated 
with  a  violent  blow  of  his  fist.  "  And  if  I  continue  obsti- 
nate," he  exclaimed — "  if  I  keep  the  property — what  will 
you  do  then  ? " 

"  I  shall  say  to  myself,  father,  that  honest  poverty  is 
better  than  stolen  wealth.  I  shall  leave  the  chateau,  which 
belongs  to  the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse,  and  seek  a  situation  as 
a  servant  in  the  neighbourhood." 

M,  Lacheneur  sank  back  in  his  chair  sobbing.     He 


a8a  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

knew  his  daughter's  nature  well  enough  to  rest  assured 
that  she  would  do  what  she  said.  However,  he  was  con- 
quered ;  Marie-Anne  had  won  the  battle,  and  he  had  de- 
cided to  make  the  heroic  sacrifice  she  asked  for. 

"I  will  relinquish  Sairmeuse,"  he  faltered,  "come  what 
may " 

He  paused  suddenly,  for  a  visitor  had  just  opened  the 
door  unheard,  and  was  now  entering  the  room.  The  new 
'comer  was  a  young  man,  twenty  or  thereabouts,  of  distin- 
guished mien,  but  with  a  rather  melancholy  and  gentle  man- 
ner. On  crossing  the  threshold  his  eyes  met  those  of 
Marie-Anne,  and  a  crimson  flush  mantled  over  both  their 
faces. 

"  Sir,"  said  this  young  fellow,  "my  father  sends  me  to 
inform  you  that  the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse  and  his  son  have 
just  arrived.  They  have  asked  the  hospitality  of  our  cure." 

M.  Lacheneur  rose,  unable  to  conceal  his  agitation. 
"  You  will  thank  the  Baron  d'Escorval  for  his  attention,  my 
dear  Maurice,"  he  replied.  "  I  shall  have  the  honor  of' 
seeing  him  to-day,  after  an  important  step  which  my  daugh- 
ter and  I  are  about  to  take." 

Young  d'Escorval  had  seen  at  the  first  glance  that  his 
presence  was  inopportune,  and  accordingly  he  did  not  lin- 
ger. But  as  he  was  taking  leave,  Marie-Anne  found  time 
and  opportunity  to  say  to  him  in  a  low  voice  :  "  I  think  I 
know  your  heart,  Maurice  ;  this  evening  I  shall  know  it 
for  certain." 

III. 

FEW  of  the  inhabitants  of  Sairmeuse  knew,  except  by 
name,  the  terrible  duke  whose  arrival  had  thrown  the  whole 
village  into  commotion.  Some  of  the  oldest  residents  had 
a  faint  recollection  of  having  seen  him  long  ago,  before 
'89  indeed,  when  he  came  to  visit  his  aunt,  Mademoiselle 
Armande,  though  under  the  monarchy  his  duties  had  sel- 
dom permitted  him  to  leave  the  court.  If  he  had  given  no 
signs  of  life  during  the  empire,  it  was  mainly  because  he 
had  escaped  the  humiliations  and  suffering  which  so  many 
of  the  emigrants  endured  in  exile.  Indeed  unlike  most  of 
his  fellows  he  had  received  a  princely  fortune  in  exchange 
for  the  wealth  of  which  the  Revolution  had  deprived  him. 

Taking  refuge  in  London  after  the  defeat  of  the  army  of 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  283 

Conde,  he  had  been  so  fortunate  as  to  please  the  only 
daughter  of  one  of  the  richest  catholic  peers  in  England, 
and  he  had  married  her.  She  possessed  a  dowry  of  two 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  pounds  sterling,  more  than  six 
million  francs.  Still  the  marriage  was  not  a  happy  one  ; 
for  the  chosen  companion  of  the  licentious  Count  d'Artois 
not  unnaturally  proved  a  very  indifferent  husband.  In- 
deed the  young  duchess  was  contemplating  a  separation 
when  she  died,  in  giving  birth  to  a  little  boy,  who  was  bap- 
tized under  the  names  of  Anne-Marie-Martial. 

The  loss  of  his  wife  did  not  render  the  Duke  de  Sair- 
meuse  inconsolable.  He  was  free  and  richer  than  he  had 
ever  been.  As  soon  therefore  as  etiquette  permitted,  he 
confided  his  son  to  the  care  of  one  of  his  wife's  relations 
and  began  his  roving  life  again.  Rumour  had  told  the 
truth.  He  had  fought,  and  fought  furiously,  against  France 
first  in  the  Austrian  and  then  in  the  Russian  ranks.  And 
he  took  no  pains  to  conceal  the  fact,  convinced  that  he 
had  only  performed  his  duty.  He  indeed  considered  that 
he  had  honestly  and  loyally  gained  the  rank  of  general, 
granted  him  by  the  Emperor  of  all  the  Russias. 

He  had  not  returned  to  France  during  the  first  Restora- 
tion ;  but  his  absence  had  been  involuntary.  His  father- 
in-law,  had  just  died,  and  the  duke  was  detained  in  Lon- 
don by  business  connected  with  his  son's  immense  inherit- 
ance. Then  followed  the  "  Hundred  Days,"  by  which  he 
was  exasperated.  But  "  the  good  cause,"  as  he  styled  it, 
having  triumphed  anew,  he  had  at  length  hastened  back  to 
France. 

Lacheneur  had  correctly  estimated  the  character  of 
the  former  lord  of  Sairmeuse,  when  he  resisted  his  daugh- 
ter's entreaties.  The  former  ploughboy  had  been  com- 
pelled to  conceal  himself  during  the  first  Restoration, 
and  he  knew  only  too  well,  that  the  returned  emigres  had 
learned  nothing  and  forgotten  nothing.  The  Duke  de 
Sairmeuse  was  no  exception  to  the  rule.  He  thought,  and 
nothing  could  be  more  sadly  absurd,  that  a  mere  act  of  au- 
thority would  suffice  to  suppress  forever  all  the  events  of 
the  Revolution  and  the  Empire.  When  any  of  those  who 
had  seen  Louis  XVIII.  at  the  helm  in  1814,  assured  the 
duke  that  France  had  changed  in  many  respects  since 
1789,  he  responded  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders  :  "  Non- 
sense !  As  soon  as  we  assert  ourselves  all  these  rascals 


284  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

whose  rebellion  alarms  you  will  quietly  slink  out  of  sight." 
And  such  was  really  his  opinion. 

On  the  road  from  Montaignac  to  Sairmeuse,  his  grace, 
comfortably  ensconced  in  a  corner  of  his  travelling  car- 
riage, unfolded  his  theories  for  his  son's  benefit.  "  The 
king  has  been  poorly  advised,"  he  said.  "  And  indeed  I 
am  disposed  to  believe  that  he  inclines  too  much  to  Jacob- 
inism. If  he  would  listen  to  my  advice,  he  would  use  the 
twelve  hundred  thousand  soldiers  our  friends  have  placed 
at  his  disposal,  to  bring  his  subjects  to  a  proper  sense  of 
duty.  Twelve  huudred  thousand  bayonets  have  far  more 
eloquence  than  all  the  clauses  of  a  charter." 

The  duke  continued  his  remarks  in  this  strain  until  the 
vehicle  approached  Sairmeuse.  Though  but  little  given  to 
sentiment,  he  was  really  affected  by  the  sight  of  the  dis- 
trict in  which  he  had  been  born — where  he  had  played  as 
a  child,  and  of  which  he  had  heard  nothing  since  Made- 
moiselle Armande's  death.  Though  change  could  be  de- 
tected on  every  side,  at  least  the  outlines  of  the  landscape 
remained  the  same,  and  the  valley  of  the  Giselle  was  as 
bright  and  smiling  as  in  days  gone  by. 

"  I  recognize  it !  "  exclaimed  his  grace  with  a  momen- 
tary delight  that  made  him  forget  politics.  "  I  recognize 
it!" 

Soon  the  changes  became  more  striking.  The  vehicle 
had  reached  Sairmeuse,  and  rattled  over  the  stones  of  the 
one  long  street.  This  street,  in  former  years,  had  been  un- 
paved,  and  had  always  been  well  nigh  impassable  in  wet 
weather. 

"  Ah,  ha  !  "  murmured  the  duke,  "  this  is  an  improve- 
ment !  " 

It  was  not  long  before  he  noticed  others.  The  dilapi- 
dated, thatched  hovels  of  the  old  regime  had  given  place 
to  pretty,  comfortable  white  cottages,  with  green  blinds  to 
the  windows  aud  vines  hanging  gracefully  over  the  doors. 
Soon  the  church  came  in  view  with  the  white  flag  of  the 
the  Bourbons  floating  according  to  royal  command  on  the 
summit  of  the  belfry  tower.  In  the  open  square  facing 
the  house  of  worship  groups  of  peasants  were  still  engaged 
in  anxious  converse. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  all  these  peasants  ?  "  enquired 
the  duke's  son,  the  Marquis  Martial  de  Sairmeuse.  "  Do 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  285 

you   think   they   look  like   people   who   are   preparing   a 
triumphal  reception  for  their  old  masters  ? " 

The  duke  shrugged  his  shoulders.  He  was  not  the  man 
to  renounce  an  illusion  for  such  a  trifle.  "They don't 
know  that  I  am  in  this  carriage,"  he  replied.  "  When  they 

know "     At  this  very  moment  loud  shouts  of  "  Vive 

Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Sairmeuse ! "  interrupted  him. 

"  Do  you  hear  that,  marquis  ? "  he  exclaimed ;  and 
pleased  by  these  cries  that  proved  he  was  in  the  right,  he 
leant  from  the  carriage-window,  waving  his  hand  to  the 
honest  Chupin  family,  who  were  running  after  the  vehicle 
with  noisy  shouts.  The  old  rascal,  his  wife,  and  his  sons, 
all  possessed  powerful  voices  ;  and  it  was  scarcely  strange 
that  the  duke  should  believe  that  the  whole  village  was 
welcoming  him.  He  was  indeed  convinced  of  it ;  and 
when  the  vehicle  stopped  before  the  house  of  the  cure,  M. 
de  Sairmeuse  was  firmly  persuaded  that  the  popularity  of 
the  nobility  was  even  greater  then  than  ever. 

Upon  the  threshold  of  the  parsonage,  stood  Bibaine,  the 
village  priest's  old  housekeeper.  She  knew  who  these 
guests  must  be,  for  a  cure's  servant  always  knows  every- 
thing that  is  going  on.  "  The  cure  has  not  yet  returned 
from  church,"  she  said,  in  reply  to  the  duke's  inquiry ; 
"  but  if  the  gentlemen  would  like  to  wait,  it  will  not  be  long 
before  he  comes,  for  the  poor  dear  man  has  not  yet 
lunched." 

"Then  let  us  go  in,"  the  duke  said  to  his  son;  and 
guided  by  the  housekeeper,  they  entered  a  small  sitting- 
room  which  M.  de  Sairmeuse  appraised  in  a  single  glance. 
The  aspect  of  a  house  reveals  the  habits  of  its  master. 
Here  everything  was  poor  and  bare,  though  scrupulously 
clean.  The  walls  were  white-washed ;  eight  or  ten  chairs 
were  ranged  around,  and  the  spoons  and  forks  on  the  cloth- 
less  table  were  of  common  pewter.  This  abode  either  be- 
longed to  a  man  of  saintly  character  or  one  of  intense 
ambition. 

"  Will  these  gentlemen  take  any  refreshment  ?  "  inquired 
Bibaine. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  replied  Martial,  "  I  must  confess  that 
the  drive  has  whetted  my  appetite  amazingly." 

"  Blessed  Jesus ! "  exclaimed  the  old  housekeeper,  in  evi- 
dent despair.  "  You  wish  to  lunch.  What  am  I  to  do  ? 
I  have  nothing !  That  is  to  say — yes — I  have  an  old  hen 


286  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

left  in  the  coop.  Give  me  time  to  ring  its  neck,  to  pick  it 

and  clean  it '-"  She  paused  to  listen  ;  footsteps  could 

be  heard  in  the  passage.  "  Ah ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  here 
comes  our  cure  !  " 

The  village  priest  of  Sairmeuse,  the  Abbe  Midon  as  he 
was  called  was  the  son  of  a  poor  farmer  in  the  environs  of 
Montaignac,  and  owed  his  Latin  and  its  tonsure  to  the 
privations  of  his  family.  Tall,  angular^  and  solemn,  he 
was  as  cold  and  impassive  as  a  grave-stone. 

It  was  by  immense  efforts  of  will,  and  at  the  cost  of 
great  physical  and  mental  torture  that  he  had  made  him- 
self what  he  was.  Some  idea  of  the  terrible  restraint  to 
which  he  had  subjected  himself  could  be  formed  by  looking 
at  his  eyes,  which  occasionally  flashed  with  all  the  fire  of  an 
impassioned  soul.  Was  he  old  or  young  ?  The  most  sub- 
tle observer  would  have  hesitated  to  answer  this  question 
on  looking  at  his  pallid  emaciated  face,  cut  in  two  by  an 
immense  nose — a  real  eagle's  beak — as  thin  as  the  edge 
of  a  razor.  He  wore  a  long  black  robe,  patched  and 
darned  in  numberless  places,  but  without  a  single  spot  or 
stain.  This  garment  hung  about  his  tall  attenuated  body 
like  the  damaged  sails  around  the  mast  of  some  disabled 
ship. 

At  the  sight  of  two  strangers  occupying  his  sitting-room, 
the  village  priest  manifested  some  slight  surprise.  The 
vehicle  standing  at  the  door  had  announced  the  presence 
of  some  unusual  visitor ;  but  neither  he  nor  the  sacristan 
had  been  notified,  and  he  wondered  who  he  had  to  deal  with, 
and  what  was  required  of  him.  Mechanically  he  turned  to 
Bibaine,  but  the  old  servant  had  taken  flight. 

The  duke  understood  his  host's  astonishment.  "  Upon 
my  word,  abbe,"  he  said,  with  the  impertinent  ease  of  a 
great  nobleman,  who  makes  himself  at  home  everywhere, 
"  we  have  taken  your  house  by  storm  and  hold  the  posi- 
tion, as  you  see.  I  am  the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse,  and  this  is 
my  son,  the  marquis." 

The  priest  bowed,  but  he  did  not  seem  very  greatly  im- 
pressed by  his  guest's  exalted  rank.  "  It  is  a  great  honour 
for  me,'5  he  replied,  in  a  more  than  reserved  tone,  "  to 
receive  a  visit  from  the  former  master  of  this  place." 

He  emphasized  this  word  "  former,"  in  such  a  manner 
that  it  was  impossible  to  doubt  his  sentiments  and  opin- 
ions. "  Unfortunately,"  he  continued,  "  you  will  not  find 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  eS; 

here  the  comforts  to  which  you  are  accustomed,  and  I 
fear " 

"  Nonsense  !  "  interrupted  the  duke.  "  An  old  soldier 
is  not  fastidious,  and  what  suffices  for  you,  Monsieur 
1'Abbe,  will  suffice  for  us.  And  rest  assured  that  we  shall 
amply  repay  you  in  one  way  or  another  for  any  inconven- 
ience we  may  cause  you." 

The  priest's  eyes  flashed.  This  want  of  tact,  this 
disagreeable  familiarity,  this  last  insulting  remark,  kindled 
die  anger  of  the  man  concealed  beneath  the  priest. 

"  Besides,"  added  Martial  gaily,  "  we  have  been  vastly 
amused  by  your  housekeeper's  anxieties,  and  already  know 
that  there  is  a  chicken  in  the  coop " 

"  That  is  to  say  there  was  one,  Monsieur  le  Marquis." 

The  old  housekeeper,  who  suddenly  reappeared,  ex- 
plained her  master's  reply.  She  seemed  overwhelmed 
with  despair.  "  Holy  Virgin  !  what  shall  I  do  ?  "  she  clam- 
oured. "  The  chicken  has  disappeared.  Some  one  has 
certainly  stolen  it  for  the  coop  is  securely  closed  !  " 

"  Do  not  accuse  your  neighbors  hastily,"  interrupted  the 
cure ;  "  no  one  has  stolen  it.  Bertrand  was  here  this 
morning  to  ask  alms  for  her  sick  daughter.  I  had  no  mon- 
ey, so  I  gave  her  the  fowl  that  she  might  make  some  good 
broth  for  the  poor  girl." 

This  explanation  changed  Bibaine's  consternation  to 
fury.  Planting  herself  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  one 
hand  on  her  hip,  and  the  other  pointing  at  her  master,  she 
cried  in  a  loud  voice,  "  That  is  just  the  sort  of  a  man  he 
is  ;  he  hasn't  as  much  sense  as  a  baby  !  Any  miserable 
peasant  who  meets  him  can  turn  him  round  his  little  finger  ; 
and  the  bigger  the  falsehood  the  more  readily  the  tears  come 
to  his  eyes.  And  that's  the  way  they  take  the  very  shoes  off 
his  feet  and  the  bread  from  his  mouth.  As  for  Bertrand's 
daughter  she's  no  more  ill  than  I  am  !  " 

"  Enough,"  said  the  priest  sternly,  "  enough."  Then, 
knowing  by  experience  that  his  voice  would  not  check  her 
flood  of  reproaches,  he  took  her  by  the  arm  and  led  her 
out  into  the  passage. 

The  Duke  de  Sairmeuseand  his  son  exchanged  a  glance 
of  consternation.  Was  this  a  comedy  prepared  for  their 
benefit  ?  Evidently  not,  since  their  arrival  had  been  unex- 
pected. But  the  priest  whose  character  had  been  so 
plainly  revealed  by  this  domestic  quarrel,  was  not  a  man 


288  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

to  their  taste.  At  least,  he  was  evidently  not  the  man 
they  had  hoped  to  find — the  auxiliary  whose  assistance  was 
indispensable  to  the  success  of  their  plans.  Still  they  did 
not  exchange  a  word ;  but  listened,  waiting  for  what  would 
follow. 

They  could  hear  a  discussion  in  the  passage.  The  mas- 
ter was  speaking  in  a  low  tones,  but  with  an  unmistakable 
accent  of  command,  and  the  servant  uttered  an  aston- 
ished exclamation.  No  distinct  word  was,  however,  audi- 
ble. 

Soon  the  priest  re-entered  the  sitting-room.  "  I  hope, 
gentlemen,"  he  said,  with  a  dignity  calculated  to  check  any 
attempt  at  sarcasm,  "  that  you  will  excuse  this  ridiculous 
scene.  The  cure  of  Sairmeuse,  thank  God,  is  not  so  poor 
as  his  housekeeper  pretends." 

Neither  the  duke  nor  Martial  made  any  reply.  Their 
earlier  assurance  was  very  sensibly  diminished ;  and  M.  de 
Sairmeuse,  deemed  it  advisable  to  change  the  subject. 
This  he  did,  by  relating  the  events  which  he  had  just  wit- 
nessed in  Paris  ;  profiting  of  the  occasion  to  pretend  that 
his  majesty,  Louis  XVIII.,  had  been  welcomed  back  with 
enthusiastic  transports  of  affection. 

Fortunately,  the  old  housekeeper  interrupted  this  recital. 
She  entered  the  room,  loaded  with  china,  spoons,  forks, 
and  bottles,  and  behind  her  came  a  tall  man  in  a  white 
apron,  with  three  or  four  covered  dishes  in  his  hands.  It 
was  an  order  to  go  and  obtain  this  repast  from  the  village 
inn  that  had  drawn  from  Bibaine  so  many  exclamations  of 
wonder  and  dismay  in  the  passage. 

A  moment  later  the  cure  and  his  guests  took  their  places 
at  the  table.  Had  the  dinner  merely  consisted  of  the  much- 
lamented  chicken,  the  rations  would  have  been  very  "short." 
J  ideed  the  worthy  woman  was  herself  obliged  to  confess 
this,  on  seeing  the  terrible  appetites  evinced  by  M.  de  Sair- 
meuse and  his  son.  "  One  would  have  sworn  that  they 
hadn't  eaten  anything  for  a  whole  fortnight,"  she  told  her 
friends  the  next  day. 

The  Abbe  Midon  was  apparently  not  hungry,  though  it  was 
now  two  o'clock,  and  he  had  eaten  nothing  since  the  pre- 
vious evening.  The  sudden  arrival  of  the  former  masters 
of  Sairmeuse  filled  his  heart  with  gloomy  forebodings  ;  and 
to  his  mind  their  coming  presaged  the  greatest  misfor- 
tunes. So  while  he  played  with  his  knife  and  fork,  pretend- 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  289 

ing  to  eat,  he  was  really  occupied  in  watching  his  guests, 
and  in  studying  them  with  all  a  priest's  penetration,  which, 
by  the  way,  is  generally  far  superior  to  that  of  a  physician 
or  a  magistrate. 

The  Duke  de  Sairmeuse  was  fifty-seven,  but  looked  con- 
siderably younger.  The  storms  of  his  youth,  the  dissipa- 
tion of  his  riper  years,  the  great  excesses  of  every  kind  in 
which  he  had  indulged  had  failed  to  impair  his  iron  constitu- 
tion. Of  herculean  build,  he  was  extremely  proud  of  his 
strength,  and  of  his  hands,  which  were  well  formed,  but 
large,  firmly  knit  and  powerful,  such  hands  as  rightfully 
belonged  to  a  nobleman  whose  ancestors  had  dealt  many  a 
crushing  blow  with  ponderous  battle-axe  and  two-handed 
sword  in  the  ancient  days  of  chivalry.  His  face  revealed 
his  character.  He  possessed  all  the  graces  and  all  the 
vices  of  a  courtier.  He  was  at  the  same  time  witty  and 
ignorant,  sceptical  as  regards  religion,  and  yet  violently 
imbued  with  the  authoritative  prejudices  of  his  class. 

Though  less  robust  than  his  father,  Martial  was  quite  as 
distinguished  a  looking  cavalier.  Young  as  he  was,  barely 
a  man,  he  had  already  been  the  hero  of  many  a  love  intrigue, 
and  more  than  one  beauty  of  renown  at  foreign  courts  had 
been  smitten  with  the  soft  gleam  of  his  large  blue  eyes, 
and  the  wavy  locks  of  golden  hair  he  inherited  from  his 
mother.  To  his  father  he  owed  energy,  courage,  and,  it 
must  also  be  added,  perversity.  But  he  was  his  superior 
in  education  and  intellect.  If  he  shared  his  father's  preju- 
dices, he  had  not  adopted  them  without  weighing  them 
carefully.  What  the  father  might  do  in  a  moment  of  ex- 
citement, the  son  was  capable  of  doing  in  cold  blood. 

It  was  thus  that  the  abbe,  with  rare  sagacity,  read  the 
character  of  his  guests.  So  it  was  with  sorrow,  but  without 
surprise,  that  he  heard  the  duke  advance,  on  the  questions 
of  the  day,  the  impossible  ideas  that  were  shared  by  nearly 
all  the  returned  emigres.  Knowing  the  condition  of  the 
country,  and  the  state  of  the  public  opinion,  the  cure 
endeavoured  to  convince  the  obstinate  nobleman  of  his 
mistake ;  but  upon  this  subject  the  duke  would  not  permit 
contradiction  ;  and  he  was  beginning  to  lose  his  temper, 
when  Bibaine  opportunely  appeared  at  the  parlour  door. 

"  Monsieur  le  Due,"  said  she,  "  M.  Lacheneur  and  his 
daughter  are  without  and  desire  to  speak  to  you." 

19 


290  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

This  name  of  Lacheneur  awakened  no  recollection  in  the 
duke's  mind.  First  of  all,  he  had  never  lived  at  Sairmeuse. 
And  even  if  he  had,  what  courtier  of  the  anrien  regime  ever 
troubled  himself  about  the  individual  names  of  his  peasan- 
try, whom  he  regarded  with  such  profound  indifference. 
When  a  nobleman  addressed  these  people,  he  exclaimed  : 
"  Halloo  1  hi  there  !  my  worthy  fellow  ! " 

Hence  it  was  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  is  making  an 
effort  of  memory  that  the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse  repeated  ; 
"  Lacheneur — M.  Lacheneur " 

But  Martial,  a  closer  observer  than  his  father,  had  no- 
ticed that  the  priest's  glance  wavered  at  the  mention  of 
this  name. 

"  Who  is  this  person,  abbe  ?  "  lightly  asked  the  duke. 

"  M.  Lacheneur,"  replied  the  priest  with  evident  hesita- 
tion, "  is  the  present  owner  of  the  Chateau  de  Sair- 
meuse." 

Martial,  the  precocious  diplomat,  could  not  repress  a  smile 
on  hearing  this  reply,  which  he  had  foreseen.  But  the 
duke  bounded  from  his  chair.  "  Ah  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  it's 
the  rascal  who  had  the  impudence — Let  him  come  in,  old 
woman,  let  him  come  in." 

Bibaine  retired,  and  the  priest's  uneasiness  increased. 
"  Permit  me,  Monsieur  le  Due,"  he  hastily  said,  "  to  remark 
that  M.  Lacheneur  exercises  a  great  influence  in  this  region 
— to  offend  him  would  be  impolitic " 

"  I  understand — you  advise  me  to  be  conciliatory.  Such 
sentiments  are  those  of  a  Jacobin.  If  his  majesty  listens 
to  the  advice  of  such  as  you,  all  these  sales  of  confiscated 
estates  will  be  ratified.  Zounds  !  our  interests  are  the  same. 
If  the  Revolution  has  deprived  the  nobility  of  their  prop- 
erty, it  has  also  impoverished  the  clergy." 

"  The  possessions  of  a  priest  are  not  of  this  world," 
coldly  retorted  the  cure. 

M.  de  Sairmeuse  was  about  to  make  some  impertinent 
rejoinder,  when  M.  Lacheneur  appeared,  followed  by  his 
daughter.  The  wretched  man  was  ghastly  pale,  great 
drops  of  perspiration  coursed  down  forehead,  and  his 
restless,  haggard  eyes  revealed  his  distress  of  mind.  Marie- 
Anne  was  as  pale  as  her  father,  but  her  attitude  and  the 
light  gleaming  in  her  glance  spoke  of  invincible  energy 
and  determination. 


MONSIEUR  LECO&  291 

"  Ah,  well !  friend,"  said  the  duke,  "  so  you  are  the 
owner  of  Sairmeuse,  it  seems." 

This  was  said  with  such  a  careless  insolence  of  manner 
that  the  cure  blushed  that  a  man  whom  he  considered  his 
equal  should  be  thus  treated  in  his  house.  He  rose  and 
offered  the  visitors"  chairs.  "Will  you  take  a  seat,  dear 
Lacheneur  ?  "  said  he,  with  a  politeness  intended  as  a 
lesson  for  the  duke ;  "  and  you,  also,  mademoiselle,  do  me 
the  honour " 

But  the  father  and  the  daughter  both  refused  the  prof- 
fered civility  with  a  motion  of  the  head. 

"  Monsieur  le  Due,"  continued  Lacheneur,  "  I  am  an 
old  servant  of  your  house — " 

"  Ah  !  indeed  !  " 

"  Mademoiselle  Armande,  your  aunt,  did  my  poor  mother 
the  honour  of  acting  as  my  godmother " 

"Ah,  yes,"  interrupted  the  duke,  "I  remember  you  now. 
Our  family  has  shown  great  kindness  to  you  and  yours. 
And  it  was  to  prove  your  gratitude,  probably,  that  you 
made  haste  to  purchase  our  estate  ! " 

The  former  ploughboy  was  of  humble  origin,  but  his 
heart  and  his  character  had  developed  with  his  fortunes ; 
he  understood  his  own  worth.  Much  as  he  was  disliked, 
and  even  detested,  by  his  neighbours,  every  one  respected 
him.  And  here  was  a  man  who  treated  him  with  undisguised 
scorn.  Why  ?  By  what  right  ?  Indignant  at  the  outrage, 
he  made  a  movement  as  if  to  retire.  No  one,  save  his 
daughter,  knew  the  truth  ;  he  had  only  to  keep  silent,  and 
Sairmeuse  remained  his.  Yes,  he,  had  still  the  power  to 
keep  Sairmeuse,  and  he  knew  it,  for  he  did  not  share  *he 
fears  of  the  ignorant  rustics.  He  was  too  well  informed 
not  to  be  able  to  distinguish  between  the  hopes  of  the 
emigres  and  the  reality  of  their  situation. 

He  knew  that  to  place  the  returning  noblemen  perforce 
in  repossession  of  their  ancestral  estates  would  imperil 
even  the  existence  of  the  monarchy,  despite  the  presence 
of  all  the  foreign  bayonets.  A  beseeching  word,  uttered 
in  a  low  tone  by  his  daughter,  induced  him,  however,  to 
turn  again  to  the  duke.  "  If  I  purchased  Sairmeuse," 
he  answered,  in  a  voice  husky  with  emotion,  "  it  was  in 
obedience  to  the  command  of  your  dying  aunt,  and  with 
the  money  she  gave  me  for  that  purpose.  If  you  see  me 


292  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

here,  it  is  only  because  I  come  to  restore  to  you  the  de- 
posit confided  to  my  keeping." 

Any  one  not  belonging  to  that  class  of  spoiled  fools 
who  ordinarily  surround  a  throne  would  have  been  deeply 
touched.  But  the  duke  thought  this  grand  act  of  honesty 
and  generosity  the  most  simple  and  natural  thing  in  the 
world. 

"  That's  all  very  well,  so  far  as  the  principal  is  concerned," 
said  he.  "  But  let  us  speak  now  of  the  interest.  Sairmeuse, 
if  I  remember  rightly,  yielded  an  average  income  of  one 
thousand  louis  per  year.  These  revenues,  well  invested, 
should  have  amounted  to  a  considerable  amount.  Where 
is  it?" 

This  claim,  thus  advanced  and  at  such  a  moment,  was 
so  outrageous,  that  Martial,  disgusted,  made  a  sign  to  his 
father  which  the  latter  did  not  see.  But  the  cure  hoping 
to  recall  the  grasping  nobleman  to  something  like  a  sense 
of  shame,  exclaimed  :  "  Monsieur  le  Due  !  Oh,  Monsieur 
le  Due ! " 

Lacheneur  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  an  air  of  resig- 
nation. "The  income  I  have  partly  used  for  my  own 
living  expenses,  and  the  education  of  my  children  ;  but 
most  of  it  has  been  expended  in  improving  the  estate,  which 
to-day  yields  an  income  twice  as  large  as  in  former  years." 

"That  is  to  say,  for  twenty  years,  M.  Lacheneur  has 
played  the  part  of  lord  of  the  manor.  A  delightful  comedy. 
You  are  rich  now,  I  suppose." 

"  I  possess  nothing  at  all.  But  I  hope  you  will  allow  me 
to  take  ten  thousand  francs,  which  your  aunt  gave  me." 

"Ah  !  she  gave  you  ten  thousand  francs.     And  when  ?  " 

"  On  the  same  evening  that  she  gave  me  the  seventy 
thousands  francs  intended  for  the  purchase  of  the  estate." 

"  Perfect !  What  proof  can  you  furnish  that  she  gave 
you  this  sum  ? " 

Lacheneur  stood  motionless  and  speechless.  He  tried 
to  reply,  but  could  not.  If  he  opened  his  lips  it  would 
only  be  to  pour  a  torrent  of  menace,  insult,  and  invective. 

Marie-Anne  stepped  quickly  forward.  "  The  proof,  sir," 
said  she,  in  a  clear,  ringing  voice,  "  is  the  word  of  this 
man,  who,  of  his  own  free  will,  comes  to  return  to  you — to 
give  you  a  fortune." 

As  she  sprang  forward,  her  beautiful  dark  hair  escaped 
from  its  confinement,  her  rich  blood  crimsoned  hei 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  293 

cheeks,  her  dark  eyes  flashed  brilliantly,  and  sorrow,  anger, 
horror  at  the  humiliation  imposed  upon  her  father,  im- 
parted a  sublime  expression  to  her  face.  She  was  so 
beautiful  that  Martial  gazed  at  her  with  absolute  wonder. 
"  Lovely  !  "  he  murmured  in  English ;  "  beautiful  as  an 
angel ! " 

These  words,  which  she  understood,  abashed  Marie- 
Anne.  But  she  had  said  enough ;  her  father  felt  that  he 
was  avenged.  He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  roll  of  papers 
and  threw  them  upon  the  table. 

"  Here  are  your  titles,"  he  said,  addressing  the  duke  in  a 
tone  full  of  implacable  hatred.  "  Keep  the  legacy  your 
aunt  gave  me,  I  wish  nothing  of  yours.  I  shall  never  set 
foot  in  Sairmeuse  again.  Penniless  I  entered  it,  penniless 
I  will  leave  it ! " 

He  walked  out  of  the  room  with  head  proudly  erect, 
and  when  they  were  outside,  he  merely  said  to  his  daughter  ; 
"  You  see,  I  told  you  so  ! " 

"  You  have  done  your  duty,"  she  replied ;  "  it  is  those 
who  haven't  done  theirs  who  are  to  be  pitied  !  " 

She  had  no  opportunity  to  say  any  more,  for  Martial 
came  running  after  them,  anxious  for  another  chance  of 
seeing  this  girl  whose  beauty  had  made  such  an  immediate 
impression  upon  his  mind.  "  I  hastened  after  you,"  he 
said  addressing  Marie-Anne,  rather  than  M.  Lacheneur, 
"  to  reassure  you.  All  this  will  be  arranged,  Mademoiselle. 
Eyes  so  beautiful  as  yours  should  never  know  tears.  I 
will  be  your  advocate  with  my  father — " 

"  Mademoiselle  Lacheneur  has  no  need  of  an  advocate  !  " 
interrupted  a  harsh  voice. 

Martial  turned,  and  saw  the  young  man  who  that  morn- 
ing had  gone  to  warn  M.  Lacheneur  of  the  duke's  arrival. 
Accosting  him,  he  exclaimed,  in  an  insolent  voice,  "  I  am 
the  Marquis  de  Sairmeuse." 

"  And  I,"  said  the  other  quietly,  "  am  Maurice  d'Escor- 
val." 

They  surveyed  one  another  for  a  moment,  each  expecting, 
perhaps,  an  insult  from  the  other.  Instinctively,  they 
felt  they  were  to  be  enemies ;  and  the  glances  they  ex- 
changed were  full  of  animosity.  Perhaps  they  had  a 
presentiment  that  they  were  to  be  the  champions  of  two 
different  principles,  as  well  as  rivals  in  love. 


294  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

Martial,  remembering  his  father,  yielded.  "We  shall 
meet  again,  M.  d'Escorval,"  he  said,  as  he  retired. 

At  this  threat,  Maurice  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  re- 
plied, "  You  had  better  not  desire  it." 


IV. 

THE  residence  of  the  Baron  d'Escorval,  the  brick  structure 
with  stone  dressings,  seen  from  the  avenue  leading  to  the 
Chateau  de  Sairmeuse,  was  small  and  unpretentious.  Its 
chief  attraction  was  a  pretty  lawn  extending  to  the  banks 
of  the  Giselle  in  front,  and  a  small  but  shady  park  in  the 
rear.  It  was  known  as  the  Chateau  d'Escorval,  but  such 
an  appellation  was  a  piece  of  the  grossest  flattery.  Any 
petty  manufacturer  who  has  amassed  a  small  fortune, would 
desire  a  larger,  handsomer,  and  more  imposing  structure 
for  his  residence. 

M.  d'Escorval — and  history  will  record  the  fact  to  his 
honour — was  not  a  rich  man.  Although  he  had  been  en- 
trusted with  several  of  those  missions  from  which  gene- 
rals and  diplomats  often  return  laden  with  millions,  his 
worldly  possessions  only  consisted  of  the  little  patrimony 
bequeathed  him  by  his  father ;  a  property  which  yielded 
an  income  of  from  twenty  to  twenty-five  thousand  francs  a 
year.  His  modest  dwelling,  situated  about  a  mile  from 
Sairmeuse,  represented  ten  years'  savings.  He  had  built 
it  in  1806  from  a  plan  drawn  by  his  own  hand,  and  it  was 
the  dearest  spot  he  had  on  earth.  He  always  hastened  to 
this  retreat  when  work  allowed  him  a  little  rest,  though  on 
this  occasion  he  had  not  come  to  Escorval  of  his  own  free 
will,  for  he  had  been  compelled  to  leave  Paris  by  the  pro- 
scription list  of  July  24 — that  fatal  list  which  summoned 
the  valiant  Ney,  the  enthusiastic  Labedoyere,  and  the  vir- 
tuous Drouot  before  a  court-martial. 

Even  in  the  seclusion  of  his  country  seat,  M.  d'Escor- 
val's  situation  was  not  without  danger,  for  he  was  one  of 
those  who,  some  days  before  the  disaster  of  Waterloo,  had 
strongly  urged  the  emperor  to  order  the  execution  o{ 
Fouche,  the  former  minister  of  police.  Now,  Fouche 
knew  of  this  advice  ;  and  to-day  he  was  all  powerful 
Hence,  M.  d'Escorval's  friends  wrote  to  him  from  Paris 
to  be  very  careful.  But  he  put  his  trust  in  Providence, 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  295 

and  faced  the  future,  threatening  though  it  was,  with  the 
unalterable  serenity  of  a  pure  conscience. 

The  baron  was  still  young ;  he  was  not  yet  fifty,  but 
anxiety,  work,  and  long  nights  passed  in  struggling  with 
the  most  arduous  difficulties  of  the  imperial  policy  had 
aged  him  before  his  time.  He  was  tall,  slightly  inclined 
to  embonpoint,  and  stooped  a  little.  His  calm  eyes,  seri- 
ous mouth,  broad,  furrowed  forehead,  and  austere  man- 
ners at  once  inspired  respect.  "  He  must  be  stern  and 
inflexible,"  said  those  who  saw  him  for  the  first  time. 
But  they  were  mistaken.  If,  in  the  exercise  of  his  official 
duties,  he  had  always  had  the  strength  to  resist  any 
temptation  to  swerve  from  the  right  path ;  if,  when  duty 
was  at  stake,  he  was  as  rigid  as  iron,  in  private  life  he 
was  as  unassuming  as  a  child,  and  kind  and  gentle  even 
to  the  verge  of  weakness.  To  this  nobility  of  character 
he  owed  his  domestic  happiness,  that  rare  boon  which 
after  all  is  the  one  great  treasure  of  life. 

During  the  bloodiest  epoch  of  the  Reign  of  Terror,  M. 
d'Escorval  had  saved  from  the  guillotine  a  young  girl, 
named  Victorie-Laure  d'Alleu,  a  distant  cousin  of  the 
Rhetaus  of  Commarin,  as  beautiful  as  an  angel,  and  only 
three  years  younger  than  himself.  He  loved  her — and 
though  she  was  an  orphan,  destitute  of  fortune,  he 
married  her,  considering  the  treasure  of  her  virgin  heart 
of  far  greater  value  than  the  largest  dowry.  She  was  an 
honest  woman  as  her  husband  was  an  honest  man,  in  the 
strictest,  most  rigorous  sense  of  the  word.  She  was  sel- 
dom seen  at  the  Tuileries,  where  M.  d'Escorval's  worth 
made  him  eagerly  welcomed.  The  splendours  of  the  im- 
perial court,  outshining  even  the  pomp  of  the  grand  Mon- 
arque,  had  no  attractions  for  her.  She  reserved  her 
grace,  beauty,  youth,  and  accomplishments  for  the  adorn- 
ment of  her  home.  Her  husband  was  everything  for  her. 
She  lived  in  him  and  through  him.  She  had  not  a 
thought  which  did  not  belong  to  him  ;  and  her  happiest 
hours  were  those  he  could  spare  from  his  arduous  labors 
to  devote  to  her.  And  when  in  the  evening,  they  sat  be- 
side the  fire  in  their  modest  drawing-room,  with  their  son 
Maurice  playing  on  the  rug  at  their  feet,  it  seemed  to 
them  that  they  had  nothing  to  wish  for  here  below. 

The  overthrow  of  the  empire  surprised  them  in  the  hey- 
day of  happiness.  Surprised  them  ?  Scarcely.  For  a 


296  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

long  time,  M.  d'Escorval  had  seen  the  prodigious  edifice, 
raised  by  the  genius  whom  he  had  made  his  idol,  totter  as 
if  about  to  fall.  Certainly,  he  was  troubled  by  this  fall 
when  at  last  it  came,  but  he  was  truly  heart-broken  at  be 
holding  all  the  treason  and  cowardice  which  followed  it 
He  was  disgusted  and  horrified  at  the  rising  of  the  sons 
of  mammon,  eager  to  gorge  themselves  with  the  spoil. 
Under  these  circumstances,  exile  from  Paris  seemed  an 
actual  blessing;  and  he  remarked  to  the  baroness  that  in 
the  seclusion  of  the  provinces  they  would  soon  be  forgot 
ten.  In  his  innermost  heart,  however,  he  was  not  without 
misgivings — misgivings  shared  by  his  wife,  who  trembled 
for  her  husband's  safety,  although  to  spare  him  all  alarm 
she  strove  to  preserve  a  placid  countenance. 

On  this  first  Sunday  in  August,  M.  and  Madame  d'Es- 
corval had  been  unusually  sad.  A  vague  presentiment  of 
approaching  misfortune  weighed  heavily  upon  their  hearts. 
At  the  moment  when  Lacheneur  presented  himself  at  the 
parsonage  they  were  sitting  on  the  terrace  in  front  of 
their  house,  gazing  anxiously  at  the  roads  leading  from 
Escorval  to  the  chateau,  and  to  the  village  of  Sairmeuse. 
Apprised  that  same  morning  of  the  duke's  arrival  by  his 
friends  at  Montaignac,  the  baron  had  sent  his  son  to  warn 
M.  Lacheneur.  He  had  requested  him  to  return  as  soon 
as  possible  ;  and  yet  the  hours  were  rolling  by,  and  Mau- 
rice had  not  returned. 

"  What  if  something  has  happened  to  him  ! "  thought 
the  anxious  parents. 

No,  at  that  moment  nothing  had  happened  to  him. 
Though  a  word  from  Mademoiselle  Lacheneur  had  sufficed 
to  make  him  forget  his  usual  deference  to  his  father's 
wishes.  "  This  evening,"  she  had  said,  "  I  shall  certainly 
know  your  heart."  What  could  this  mean  ?  Could  she 
doubt  him  ?  Tortured  by  anxieties,  he  could  not  make  up 
his  mind  to  go  home  again  without  having  had  an  explana- 
tion, and  he  loitered  near  the  chateau  hoping  that  Marie- 
Anne  would  reappear. 

She  did  reappear  at  last,  but  leaning  on  her  father's  arm. 
Young  d'Escorval  followed  them  at  a  distance,  and  soon 
saw  them  enter  the  parsonage.  What  they  wanted  there 
he  couldn't  guess  though  he  knew  that  the  duke  and  his 
son  were  inside.  The  time  that  the  Lacheneurs  remained 
ir>  the  Abbe  Midon's  house  seemed  a  century  to  Maurice, 


I  will  be  your  advocate  with  my  father.'  ' 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  297 

who  paced  restlessly  up  and  down  the  market  place.  At 
last,  however,  Marie-Anne  and  her  father  reappeared,  and 
he  was  about  to  join  them  when  he  was  prevented  by  the 
appearance  of  Martial,  whose  promises  he  overheard. 

Maurice  knew  nothing  of  life  ;  he  was  as  innocent  as  a 
child,  but  he  could  not  mistake  the  intentions  that  had 
dictated  the  step  taken  by  the  Marquis  de  Sairmeuse.  At 
the  thought  that  a  libertine's  caprice  should  for  an  instant 
rest  on  the  pure  and  beautiful  girl  he  loved  with  all  the 
strength  of  his  being — the  girl  he  had  sworn  should  be 
his  wife — all  his  blood  mounted  madly  to  his  brain.  He 
felt  a  wild  longing  to  chastise  the  marquis  ;  but  fortunately 
— unfortunately,  perhaps — his  hand  was  stayed  by  the 
recollection  of  a  phrase  he  had  heard  his  father  repeat  a 
thousand  times  :  "  Calmness  and  irony  are  the  only  weap- 
ons worthy  of  the  strong."  And  at  the  remembrance  of 
these  words  he  acquired  sufficient  strength  of  will  to  ap- 
pear calm,  though  in  reality  he  was  beside  himself  with 
passion. 

"  Ah  !  I  will  find  you  again,"  he  repeated,  however, 
through  his  set  teeth  as  he  watched  his  enemy  move 
away.  He  then  turned  and  discovered  that  Marie-Anne 
and  her  father  had  left  him.  He  saw  them  standing 
about  a  hundred  yards  off,  and  although  he  was  sur- 
prised at  their  indifference,  he  made  haste  to  join  them, 
and  addressed  himself  to  M.  Lacheneur. 

"  We  are  just  going  to  your  father's  house,"  was  the 
only  reply  he  received,  and  this  in  an  almost  ferocious 
tone. 

A  glance  from  Marie-Anne  commanded  silence.  He 
obeyed,  and  walked  a  few  steps  behind  them,  his  head 
bowed  upon  his  breast,  terribly  anxious,  and  vainly  seeking 
to  explain  to  himself  what  had  taken  place.  His  manner 
betrayed  such  intense  grief  that  his  mother  divined  a 
misfortune  as  soon  as  she  caught  sight  of  him. 

All  the  anguish  which  this  courageous  woman  had 
hidden  for  a  month,  found  utterance  in  a  single  cry. 
"  Ah !  here  is  misfortune  ! "  said  she  :  "  we  shall  not  es- 
cape it." 

It  was  indeed  misfortune.  One  could  no  longer  doubt 
it  on  seeing  M.  Lacheneur  enter  the  drawing-room.  He 
walked  with  the  heavy  and  uncertain  step  of  a  drunken 


*98  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

man  ;  his  eyes  were  void  of  expression,  his  features  were 
distorted  and  his  lips  trembled. 

"  What  has  happened  ? "  eagerly  asked  the  baron. 

But  whilom  proprietor  of  Sairmeuse  did  not  seem  to 
hear  him.  "  Ah !  I  warned  her,"  he  murmured,  con 
tinuing  a  monologue  he  had  begun  before  entering  the 
room.  "  Yes,  I  told  my  daughter  so." 

Madame  d'Escorval,  after  kissing  Marie- Anne,  drew  the 
girl  towards  her.  "What  has  happened?  For  heaven's 
sake  tell  me  what  has  happened  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

With  a  gesture  of  resignation,  the  girl  motioned  her  to 
look  at  M.  Lacheneur,  and  listen  to  him. 

The  latter  seemed  to  wake  up ;  he  passed  his  hand 
across  his  forehead  and  wiped  away  the  moisture  from 
his  eyes.  "  It  is  only  this,  M.  le  Baron,"  said  he  in  a 
harsh,  unnatural  voice  :  "  I  rose  this  morning  the  richest 
land-owner  in  the  district,  and  I  shall  lie  down  to-night 
poorer  than  the  poorest  beggar  in  Sairmeuse.  I  had 
everything ;  and  now  1  have  nothing,  nothing  but  my 
two  hands.  They  earned  me  my  bread  for  twenty-five 
years  ;  they  will  earn  it  for  me  now  until  the  day  of  my 
death.  I  had  a  beautiful  dream ;  it  is  over." 

In  the  presence  of  this  outburst  of  despair,  M.  d'Escor- 
val turned  pale.  "  You  must  exaggerate  your  misfortune," 
he  faltered ;  "  explain  what  has  happened." 

Unconscious  of  what  he  was  doing,  M.  Lacheneur 
threw  his  hat  upon  a  chair,  and  flinging  back  his  long, 
gray  hair,  he  said  :  "  To  you  I  will  tell  everything.  I 
came  here  for  that  purpose.  I  know  you  •  I  know  your 
heart.  And  have  you  not  done  me  the  honour  to  call  me 
your  friend  ? " 

Then,  without  omitting  a  detail  he  related  the  scene 
which  had  just  taken  place  at  the  parsonage.  The  baron 
listened  with  intense  astonishment,  almost  doubting  the 
evidence  of  his  own  senses ;  while  Madame  d'Escorval's 
indignant  exclamations  showed  that  she  was  utterly  re- 
volted by  such  injustice. 

But  there  was  one  listener,  whom  Marie-Anne  alone  ob- 
served, who  was  most  intensely  moved  by  Lacheneur's 
narrative.  This  listener  was  Maurice.  Leaning  against 
the  door,  pale  as  death,  he  tried  in  vain  to  repress  the 
tears  of  rage  and  grief  which  rushed  to  his  eyes.  To  in- 
sult Lacheneur  was  to  insult  Marie-Anne — that  is  to  say, 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  399 

to  injure,  to  outrage  him  in  what  he  ;held  dearest  in  the 
world.  Had  Martial  now  been  within  his  reach  he  would 
certainly  have  paid  dearly  for  the  insults  heaped  on  the 
father  of  the  girl  that  Maurice  loved.  However,  young 
d'Escorval  swore  that  the  chastisement  he  contemplated 
was  only  deferred — that  it  should  surely  come.  And  it 
was  not  mere  angry  boasting.  This  young  man,  so 
modest  and  gentle  in  manner,  had  albeit  a  heart  that  was 
inaccessible  to  fear.  His  beautiful,  dark  eyes,  which 
usually  had  the  trembling  timidity  of  a  girl's  could  meet 
an  enemy's  gaze  without  flinching. 

When  M.  Lacheneur  had  repeated  the  last  words  he 
addressed  to  the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse,  M.  d'Escorval 
offered  him  his  hand.  "  I  have  told  you  already  that  I 
was  your  friend,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  faltering  with  emo- 
tion ;  "  but  I  must  tell  you  to-day  that  I  am  proud  of 
having  such  a  friend  as  you." 

Lacheneur  trembled  at  the  touch  of  the  loyal  hand 
which  clasped  his  so  warmly,  and  his  face  betrayed  his 
inward  satisfaction. 

"  If  my  father  had  not  returned  the  estate,"  obstinately 
murmured  Marie- Anne,  "he  would  have  been  an  unfaith- 
ful guardian — a  thief.  He  has  only  done  his  duty." 

M.  d'Escorval  turned  to  the  young  girl  a  little  surprised. 
"  You  speak  the  truth,  mademoiselle,"  he  said,  reproach- 
fully ;  "  but  when  you  are  as  old  as  I  am  and  have  had 
my  experience,  you  will  know  that  the  accomplishment 
of  a  duty  is,  under  certain  circumstances,  an  act  of  heroism 
of  which  only  few  persons  are  capable." 

M.  Lacheneur  exclaimed  warmly  to  his  friend,  "  Ah  ! 
your  words  do  me  good.  Now,  I  am  glad  of  what  I  have 
done." 

The  baroness  rose,  too  much  a  woman  to  know  how  to 
resist  the  generous  dictates  of  her  heart.  "  And  I,  also, 
Lacheneur,"  said  she,  "  desire  to  press  your  hand.  I 
wish  to  tell  you  that  I  esteem  you  as  much  as  I  despise 
those  who  have  tried  to  humiliate  you,  when  they  should 
have  fallen  at  your  feet.  They  are  heartless  monsters, 
and  I  don't  believe  the  like  of  them  are  to  be  found  on 
earth.'* 

"  Alas ! "  sighed  the  baron,  "  the  allies  have  brought 
back  plenty  of  others  who,  like  the  Sairmeuses,  think 
that  the  world  was  created  exclusively  for  their  benefit." 


300  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

"And  yet  these  people  wish  to  be  our  masters,"  growled 
Lacheneur. 

By  some  strange  fatality  no  one  chanced  to  hear  this 
last  remark.  Had  it  been  overheard,  and  had  the 
speaker  been  questioned,  he  would  probably  have  dis- 
closed some  of  the  projects  just  forming  in  his  mind; 
and  then  many  disastrous  consequences  might  have  been 
averted. 

M.  d'Escorval  had  now  regained  his  usual  coolness. 
"  Now,  my  dear  friend,"  he  asked,  "  what  course  do  you 
propose  to  pursue  with  these  members  of  the  Sairmeuse 
family ! " 

"  They  will  hear  nothing  more  from  me — for  some  time 
at  least." 

"  What !  Shall  you  not  claim  the  ten  thousand  francs 
they  owe  you  ?  " 

"  I  shall  ask  them  for  nothing." 

"  You  will  be  compelled  to  do  so.  Since  you  have  al- 
luded to  the  legacy,  your  own  honour  requires  that  you 
should  insist  upon  its  payment  by  all  legal  means. 
There  are  still  judges  in  France." 

M.  Lacheneur  shook  his  head.  "  The  judges  will  not 
grant  me  the  justice  I  desire.  I  shall  not  apply  to  them." 

«  But " 

"  No,  no.  I  wish  to  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  these 
men.  I  shall  not  even  go  to  the  chateau  to  remove  either 
my  own  clothes  or  my  daughter's.  If  they  send  them  to 
us — very  well.  If  they  like  to  keep  them  so  much  the 
better.  The  more  shameful,  infamous,  and  odious  their 
conduct  the  better  I  shall  be  satisfied." 

The  baron  made  no  reply ;  but  his  wife  spoke,  believing 
that  she  had  a  sure  means  of  conquering  this  incompre- 
hensible obstinacy.  "  I  could  understand  your  determina- 
tion if  you  were  alone  in  the  world,"  said  she,  "  but  you 
have  children." 

"  My  son  is  eighteen,  madame ;  he  is  in  good  health  and 
has  had  an  excellent  education.  He  can  make  his  own 
way  in  Paris  if  he  chooses  to  remain  there." 

"  But  your  daughter  ? " 

"  Marie-Anne  will  remain  with  me." 

M.  d'Escorval  thought  it  his  duty  to  interfere.  "  Take 
care,  my  dear  friend,  that  your  grief  doesn't  tamper  witlr 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  301 

your  reason,"  said  he.  "  Reflect !  What  will  become  of 
you — your  daughter  and  yourself  ? " 

Lacheneur  smiled  sadly.  "Oh,"  he  replied,  "we  are 
not  as  destitute  as  I  said.  I  exaggerated  our  misfortune. 
We  are  still  landowners.  Last  year  an  old  cousin,  whom 
I  could  never  induce  to  come  and  live  with  us  at  Sair- 
meuse,  died,  and  left  everything  she  had  to  Marie-Anne  ; 
so  we've  still  got  a  poor  little  cottage  near  La  Reche,  with 
a  little  garden  and  a  few  acres  of  barren  land.  In  compli- 
ance with  my  daughter's  entreaties,  I  repaired  the  cottage, 
and  furnished  it  with  a  table,  some  chairs,  and  a  couple  of 
beds.  It  was  then  intended  as  a  home  for  old  Father  Gu- 
vat  and  his  wife.  And  in  the  midst  of  my  wealth  and  lux- 
ury, I  said  to  myself :  '  How  comfortable  those  two  old 
people  will  be  there.'  Well,  what  I  thought  so  comforta- 
ble for  others,  will  be  good  enough  for  me  now.  I  can 
raise  vegetables,  and  Marie-Anne  shall  sell  them." 

Was  he  speaking  seriously?  Maurice  must  have  sup- 
posed so,  for  he  .sprang  forward.  "  This  shall  not  be, 
Lacheneur ! "  he  exclaimed. 

"What!" 

"  No,  this  shall  not  be,  for  I  love  Marie-Anne,  and  I  ask 
you  to  give  her  to  me  for  my  wife." 

Maurice  and  Marie-Anne's  affections  for  each  other  did 
not  date  from  yesterday.  As  children  they  had  played  to- 
gether in  the  parks  of  Sairmeuse  and  Escorval.  They  had 
shared  many  a  butterfly  hunt,  and  many  a  search  for  peb- 
bles on  the  river  banks ;  and  oft  times  had  they  rolled  in 
the  hay  while  their  mothers  sauntered  through  the  mead- 
ows bordering  the  Giselle. 

For  their  mothers  were  friends.  Madame  Lacheneur 
had  been  reared  like  most  poor  peasant  girls  ;  that  is  to 
say,  on  her  marriage  day  she  only  succeeded  with  great 
difficulty  in  inscribing  her  name  upon  the  register.  But 
from  her  husband's  example  she  learnt  that  prosperity,  as 
well  as  noble  lineage,  entails  numerous  obligations  ;  hence 
with  rare  courage,  crowned  with  still  rarer  success,  she  un- 
dertook to  acquire  an  education  in  keeping  with  her  rank 
and  fortune.  And  the  baroness  made  no  effort  to  resist 
the  feelings  of  sympathy  which  led  her  towards  this  merito- 
rious young  woman,  in  whom  it  was  easy  to  discern  a  mind 
of  many  natural  gifts,  and  a  nature  which  despite  low  birth 
was  instinctively  refined.  When  Madame  Lacheneur  died, 


302  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

Madame  d'Escorval  mourned  for  her  as  she  would  have 
mourned  for  a  favourite  sister. 

From  that  moment  Maurice's  attachment  assumed  a 
more  serious  character.  Educated  at  a  college  in  Paris, 
his  masters  sometimes  complained  of  his  want  of  appli- 
cation. "  If  your  professors  are  not  satisfied  with  you," 
said  his  mother,  "  you  shall  not  go  to  Escorval  for  the  holi- 
days, and  then  you  will  not  see  your  friend."  Now  this 
simple  threat  always  sufficed  to  make  the  school-boy  re- 
sume his  studies  with  redoubled  diligence.  So  each  suc- 
ceeding year  strengthened  as  it  were  the  love  which  pre- 
served Maurice  from  the  restlessness  and  errors  of  youth. 

The  two  children  were  equally  timid  and  artless,  and 
equally  infatuated  with  each  other.  Long  walks  in  the 
twilight  under  their  parents'  eyes,  a  glance  that  revealed 
their  delight  at  meeting,  flowers  exchanged  between  them 
and  religiously  preserved — such  were  their  simple  pleas- 
ures. That  magical  word  love — so  sweet  to  utter,  and  so 
sweet  to  hear — had  never  once  dropped  from  their  lips. 
Maurice's  audacity  had  never  gone  beyond  a  furtive  pres- 
sure of  the  hand. 

The  parents  could  not  be  ignorant  of  this  mutual  affec- 
tion ;  and  if  they  pretended  to  shut  their  eyes,  it  was  only 
because  it  neither  displeased  them  nor  disturbed  their 
plans.  M.  and  Madame  d'Escorval  saw  no  objection  to 
their  son's  marriage  with  a  girl  whose  nobility  of  character 
they  appreciated,  and  who  was  as  beautiful  as  she  was  good. 
That  she  was  the  richest  heiress  in  the  province,  was  nat- 
urally no  objection.  So  far  as  M.  Lacheneur  was  con- 
cerned, he  was  delighted  at  the  prospect  of  a  marriage 
which  would  ally  him,  a  former  ploughboy,  with  an  old 
and  generally  respected  family.  Hence  although  the  sub- 
ject had  never  been  directly  alluded  to  either  by  the  baron 
or  Lacheneur,  there  was  withal  a  tacit  agreement  between 
the  two  families.  Indeed  the  marriage  was  considered  as 
a  foregone  conclusion. 

And  yet  Maurice's  impetuous  unexpected  declaration 
struck  every  one  dumb.  In  spite  of  his  agitation,  the 
young  man  perceived  the  effect  his  words  had  produced, 
and  frightened  by  his  own  boldness,  he  turned  towards 
his  father  with  a  look  of  interrogation.  The  baron's  face 
was  grave,  even  sad ;  but  his  attitude  expressed  no  dis- 
pleasure. 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  303 

This  gave  renewed  courage  to  the  anxious  lover.  "  You 
will  excuse  me,"  he  said,  addressing  Lacheneur,  "  for 
presenting  my  request  in  such  a  manner,  and  at  such  a 
time.  But  surely  it  is  at  the  moment  when  misfortune 
overtakes  one  that  true  friends  should  declare  themselves, 
and  deem  themselves  fortunate  if  their  devotion  can  ob- 
literate the  remembrance  of  such  infamous  treatment  as 
that  to  which  you  have  been  subjected." 

As  he  spoke,  he  was  watching  Marie-Anne.  Blushing 
and  embarrassed,  she  turned  away  her  head,  perhaps  to 
conceal  the  tears  which  gushed  forth  from  her  eyes — tears 
of  joy  and  gratitude.  The  love  of  the  man  she  worshipped 
had  come  forth  victorious  from  a  test  which  many  heir- 
esses might  in  vain  resort  to.  Now  could  she  truly  say 
that  she  knew  Maurice's  heart. 

Maurice  speedily  continued  :  "  I  have  not  consulted 
my  father,  sir  ;  but  I  know  his  affection  for  me  and  his 
esteem  for  you.  When  the  happiness  of  my  life  is  at  stake 
he  will  not  oppose  me.  He,  who  married  my  dear  mother 
without  a  dowry,  must  understand  my  feelings." 

With  these  words  Maurice  paused,  awaiting  the  verdict. 

"  I  approve  your  course,  my  son,"  said  M.  d'Escorval, 
"  you  have  behaved  like  an  honourable  man.  Certainly 
you  are  very  young  to  become  the  head  of  a  family ;  but, 
as  you  say,  circumstances  demand  it." 

Then  turning  to  M.  Lacheneur,  he  added  :  "  My  dear 
friend,  on  my  son's  behalf  I  ask  you  for  your  daughter's 
hand  in  marriage." 

Maurice  had  not  expected  so  little  opposition.  In  his 
delight  he  was  almost  tempted  to  bless  the  hateful  Duke 
de  Sairmeuse,  to  whom  he  would  owe  his  future  happiness. 
He  sprang  towards  his  father,  and  seizing  his  hands,  he 
raised  them  to  his  lips,  faltering  :  "  Thanks  ! — you  are  so 
good  !  I  love  you  so  !  Oh,  how  happy  I  am  !  " 

Unfortunately,  the  poor  boy's  joy  was  premature.  A 
gleam  of  pride  flashed  in  M.  Lacheneur's  eyes ;  but  his 
face  soon  resumed  its  gloomy  expression.  "  Believe  me,  M. 
le  Baron,"  said  he,  "  I  am  deeply  touched  by  what  you  and 
your  son  have  said — yes,  deeply  touched.  You  wish  to 
make  me  forget  my  humiliation  ;  but  for  this  very  reason, 
I  should  be  the  most  contemptible  of  men  if  I  did  not  re- 
fuse the  great  honour  you  desire  to  confer  upon  my  daugh- 
ter." 


304  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  the  baron  in  utter  astonishment ; 
"  you  refuse  ?  " 

"  I  am  compelled  to  do  so." 

Although  momentarily  thunderstruck,  Maurice  soon  re- 
newed the  attack  with  an  energy  no  one  had  ever  sus- 
pected in  his  character.  "  Do  you  wish  to  ruin  my  life,  to 
ruin  our  lives,"  he  exclaimed ;  "  for  if  I  love  Marie-Anne, 
she  also  loves  me." 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  he  spoke  the  truth.  The  un- 
happy girl,  crimson  with  happy  blushes  a  moment  earlier, 
had  now  turned  as  white  as  marble  and  glanced  implor- 
ingly towards  her  father. 

"  It  cannot  be,"  repeated  M.  Lacheneur  ;  "  and  the  day 
will  arrive  when  you  will  bless  the  decision  I  have  come 
to." 

Alarmed  by  her  son's  evident  dismay,  Madame  d'Escor- 
val  interposed  :  "  You  must  have  reasons  for  this  refusal," 
said  she. 

"  None  that  I  can  disclose,  madame.  But  as  long  as  I 
can  prevent  it,  my  daughter  shall  never  be  your  son's 
wife." 

"  Ah  !  it  will  kill  my  child  ! "  exclaimed  the  baroness. 

M.  Lacheneur  shook  his  head.  "  M.  Maurice,"  said  he, 
"  is  young  ;  he  will  soon  console  himself — and  forget." 

"  Never !  "  interrupted  the  unhappy  lover — "never ! " 

"  And  your  daughter  ?  "  inquired  the  baroness. 

Ah  !  this  was  the  weak  spot  in  Lacheneur's  armour  :  a 
mother's  instinct  had  prompted  the  baroness's  last  words. 
The  whilom  lord  of  Sairmeuse  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and 
it  was  not  without  a  struggle  that  his  will  gained  the 
mastery  over  his  heart :  "  Marie- Anne,"  he  replied  slowly, 
"  knows  her  duty  too  well  not  to  obey  me.  When  I  have, 
told  her  the  motive  that  governs  my  conduct  she  will  re- 
sign herself,  and  if  she  suffers  she  will  know  how  to  con- 
ceal her  sufferings." 

He  suddenly  paused.  In  the  distance  a  report  of 
musketry  could  be  plainly  heard.  Each  face  grew  paler : 
for  circumstances  imparted  to  these  sounds  an  ominous 
significance  to  anxious  hearts.  Both  M.  d'Escorval  and 
Lacheneur  sprang  out  upon  the  terrace.  But  everything 
was  silent  again.  Far  as  the  horizon  stretched,  nothing 
unusual  could  be  discerned.  The  limpidity  of  the  azure 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  305 

sky  was  unimpaired,  and  not  the  faintest  cloudlet  of  smoke 
rose  above  the  trees. 

"  It  is  the  enemy,"  muttered  M.  Lacheneur  in  a  tone 
which  told  how  gladly  he  would  have  shouldered  his  gun 
and  with  five  hundred  others  marched  against  the  allies. 

He  paused.  The  reports  were  repeated  with  still 
greater  violence,  and  for  five  minutes  or  so  succeeded  each 
other  without  cessation.  It  seemed  even  as  if  some  pieces 
of  artillery  had  been  discharged. 

M.  d'Escorval  listened  with  knitted  brows.  "  This  is 
very  strange  ;  but  yet  it  is  scarcely  the  fire  of  a  regular  en- 
gagement," he  murmured. 

To  remain  any  longer  in  such  a  state  of  uncertainty  was 
out  of  the  question.  "  If  you  will  allow  me,  father,"  ven- 
tured Maurice,  "  I  will  try  and  ascertain — " 

"  Go,"  replied  the  baron  quietly ;  "  but  if  there  should  be 
anything,  which  I  doubt,  don't  expose  yourself  to  useless 
danger,  but  return." 

"  Oh  !  be  prudent  !  "  nervously  insisted  Madame  d'Es- 
corval, who  already  saw  her  son  exposed  to  peril. 

"  Be  prudent  !  "  also  entreated  Marie- Anne,  who  alone 
understood  the  attraction  that  danger  might  have  for  a 
lover  in  despair. 

These  cautions  were  unnecessary.  As  Maurice  was 
rushing  to  the  gate,  his  father  stopped  him. 

"  Wait,"  said  he,  "  here  comes  some  one  who  may, 
perhaps,  be  able  to  enlighten  us." 

A  peasant  was  passing  along  the  road  leading  from  Sair- 
meuse.  He  was  walking  bareheaded  and  with  hurried 
strides  in  the  middle  of  the  dusty  highway,  brandishing  his 
stick  as  if  soon  to  threaten  some  invisible  enemy,  and  he 
came  near  enough  for  the  party  on  the  terrace  to  distin- 
guish his  features. 

"  Ah  !  it's  Chanlouineau  !  "  exclaimed  M.  Lacheneur. 

"  The  owner  of  the  vineyards  on  the  Borderie  ? " 

"  The  same  !  The  best  looking  young  farmer  in  the 
district,  and  the  best  in  heart  as  well.  Ah  !  he  has  good 
blood  in  his  veins  ;  we  may  well  be  proud  of  him." 

"  Ask  him  to  stop,"  said  M.  d'Escorval. 

"  Ah !  Chanlouineau  !  "  shouted  Lacheneur,  leaning  ovei 
the  balustrade. 

The  young  farmer  raised  his  head. 

30 


306  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

"  Come  up  here,"  resumed  Lacheneur ;  "  the  baron  wishes 
to  speak  with  you." 

Chanlouineau  replied  by  a  gesture  of  assent,  and  opening 
the  garden  gate  soon  crossed  the  lawn.  He  had  a  furious 
look  in  his  face,  and  the  state  of  his  clothes  showed  plainly 
enough  that  he  had  been  righting.  He  had  lost  his  collar 
and  necktie,  and  the  muscles  of  his  neck  were  swollen  as 
if  by  the  pressure  of  some  vigorous  hand. 

"What's  going  on  ?"  eagerly  asked  Lacheneur.  "Is 
there  a  battle  ?  " 

"  Oh,  there's  no  battle,"  replied  the  young  farmer,  with 
a  nervous  laugh.  "  The  firing  you  hear  is  in  honour  of  the 
Duke  de  Sairmeuse." 

"What!" 

"  Oh,  it's  the  truth.  It's  all  the  work  of  that  scoundrel, 
Chupin.  If  ever  he  comes  within  reach  of  my  arm  again, 
he  will  never  steal  any  more." 

M.  Lacheneur  was  confounded.  "  Tell  us  what  has 
happened,"  he  said,  excitedly. 

"  Oh,  it's  simple  enough.  When  the  duke  arrived  at 
Sairmeuse,  Chupin,  with  his  two  rascally  boys,  and  that 
old  hag,  his  wife,  ran  after  the  carriage  like  beggars  after  a 
diligence,  crying.  '  Vive  Monseigneur  le  due  !  '  The  duke 
was  delighted,  for  he  no  doubt  expected  a  volley  of  stones, 
so  he  gave  each  of  the  wretches  a  five  franc  piece.  This 
money  abetted  Chupin's  appetite,  so  he  took  it  into  his 
head  to  give  the  duke  such  a  reception  as  was  given  the 
emperor.  Having  learnt  from  Bibaine,  whose  tongue  is  as 
long  as  a  viper's,  everything  that  had  occurred  at  the  par- 
sonage between  the  duke  and  you,  M.  Lacheneur,  he  came 
and  proclaimed  the  news  on  the  market-place.  When  the 
fools  heard  it,  all  those  who  had  purchased  national  lands 
got  frightened.  Chupin  had  counted  on  this,  and  soon  he 
began  telling  the  poor  fools  that  they  must  burn  powder 
under  the  duke's  nose  if  they  wished  him  to  confirm  their 
titles  to  their  property." 

"  And  did  they  believe  him  ?  " 

"  Implicitly.  It  didn't  take  them  long  to  make  their 
preparations.  They  went  to  the  mairie  and  took  the  fire- 
men's muskets,  and  the  guns  used  for  firing  salutes  on  fete 
days  ;  the  mayor  gave  them  powder,  and  then  you  heard 
the  result.  When  I  left  Sairmeuse  there  was  more  than 
two  hundred  idiots  in  front  of  the  parsonage  shouting 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  307 

'  Vive  Monseigneur !     Vive  le  Due  de  Sairmeuse  ! '  at  the 
top  of  their  voices." 

"  The  same  pitiful  farce  that  was  played  in  Paris,  only 
on  a  smaller  scale,"  murmured  the  Baron  d'Escorval. 
"  Avarice  and  human  cowardice  are  the  same  all  the 
world  over." 

Meanwhile,  Chanlouineau  was  proceeding  with  his  nar- 
rative. "  To  make  the  fete  complete,  the  devil  must  have 
warned  all  the  nobility  of  the  district,  for  they  all  hastened 
to  the  spot.  They  say  that  M.  de  Sairmeuse  is  the  king's 
favourite,  and  that  he  can  do  just  as  he  pleases.  So  you 
may  imagine  how  they  all  greeted  him  !  I'm  only  a  poor 
peasant,  but  I'd  never  lie  down  in  the  dust  before  any 
man  like  these  old  nobles,  who  are  so  haughty  with  us,  did 
before  the  duke.  They  even  kissed  his  hands,  and  he  al- 
lowed them  to  do  so.  He  walked  about  the  square  with 
the  Marquis  de  Courtornieu — " 

"  And  his  son  ?  "  interrupted  Maurice. 

"  The  Marquis  Martial,  eh  ?  Oh,  he  was  also  strutting 
about  with  Mademoiselle  Blanche  de  Courtornieu  on  his 
arm.  Ah!  I  can't  understand  how  people  can  call  her 
pretty — a  little  bit  of  a  thing,  so  blonde  that  one  might  al- 
most take  her  hair  for  white.  Ah,  they  did  laugh  those 
two  and  poke  fun  at  the  peasants  into  the  bargain.  Some 
of  the  villagers  say  they  are  going  to  be  married.  And  even 
this  evening  there's  to  be  a  banquet  at  the  Chateau  de 
Courtornieu  in  the  duke's  honour." 

"  You've  only  forgotten  one  thing,"  said  M.  Lacheneur 
when  Chanlouineau  paused.  "  How  is  it  your  clothes  are 
torn,  it  seems  as  if  you'd  been  fighting." 

The  young  farmer  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  it  was 
with  evident  reluctance  that  he  replied  :  "  I  can  tell  you  all 
the  same.  While  Chupin  was  preaching,  I  preached  as 
well,  but  not  in  the  same  strain.  The  scoundrel  reported 
me.  So,  in  crossing  the  square,  the  duke  stopped  before 
me  and  remarked  :  '  So  you  are  an  evil  disposed  person  ? ' 
I  said  I  wasn't,  though  I  knew  my  rights.  Then  he  took 
me  by  the  coat  and  shook  me,  and  told  me  he'd  cure  me 
and  take  possession  of  his  vineyard  again.  The  deuce  I 
When  I  felt  the  old  rascal's  hand  on  me  my  blood  boiled. 
I  pinioned  him.  But  six  or  seven  men  fell  OD  me,  and 
compelled  me  to  let  him  go.  But  he  had  better  make  up 
his  mind  not  to  come  prowling  about  my  vineyard  1  * 


3oS  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

The  young  farmer  clenched  his  hands,  and  his  eyes 
flashed  ominously  ;  he  evidently  had  an  intense  thirst  for 
vengeance.  M.  d'Escorval  remained  silent,  fearing  to  ag- 
gravate this  hatred,  so  imprudently  kindled,  and  the  ex- 
plosion of  which  might  have  terrible  results. 

M.  Lacheneur  had  risen  from  his  chair.  "I must  go 
and  take  possession  of  my  cottage,"  he  remarked  to  Chan- 
louineau ;  "  will  you  accompany  me  ?  I  have  a  proposal  to 
make  to  you." 

M.  and  Madame  d'Escorval  endeavoured  to  detain  him, 
but  he  would  not  allow  himself  to  be  persuaded,  and  a 
minute  later,  he,  his  daughter,  and  Chanlouineau  had 
taken  their  departure.  However,  Maurice  did  not  despair, 
for  Marie- Anne  had  promised  to  meet  him  on  the  following 
day  in  the  pine  grove  near  La  Reche. 

Chanlouineau  had  correctly  reported  the  reception 
which  the  villagers  of  Sairmeuse  had  given  to  the  duke. 
The  artful  Chupin  had  found  a  sure  means  of  kindling  a 
semblance  of  enthusiasm  among  the  callous,  calculating 
peasants  who  were  his  neighbours. 

He  was  a  dangerous  fellow  this  old  poacher  and  farm- 
yard thief.  Shrewd  he  always  was ;  cautious  and  pathetic 
when  necessary  ;  bold  as  those  who  possess  nothing  can 
afford  to  be ;  in  short,  one  of  the  most  consummate  scoun- 
drels that  ever  breathed.  The  peasants  feared  him,  and 
yet  they  had  no  conception  of  his  real  character.  All  the 
resources  of  his  mind  had  hitherto  been  expended  in 
evading  the  provisions  of  the  rural  code.  To  save  himself 
from  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  gendarmes,  to  steal  a 
few  sacks  of  wheat  without  detection,  he  had  expended 
talents  of  intrigue  which  would  have  sufficed  to  make  the 
fortune  of  twenty  diplomats.  Circumstances,  as  he  al« 
ways  said,  had  been  against  him.  Hence,  he  desperately 
caught  at  the  first  and  only  opportunity  worthy  of  his 
genius  that  had  ever  presented  itself. 

Of  course,  the  wily  rustic  told  his  fellow-villagers  noth- 
ing of  the  true  circumstances  which  had  attended  the  res- 
toration of  Sairmeuse  to  its  former  owner.  From  him  the 
peasants  only  learned  the  bare  fact ;  and  the  news  spread 
rapidly  from  group  to  group.  "  M.  Lacheneur  has  given 
up  Sairmeuse,"  said  Chupin.  "  Chateau,  forests,  vine- 
yards, fields, — he  surrenders  everything." 

This  was  enough,  and  more  than  enough,  to  terrify  ever) 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  309 

landowner  in  the  village.  If  Lacheneur,  this  man  who 
was  so  powerful  in  their  eyes,  considered  the  danger  so 
threatening  that  he  deemed  it  necessary  or  advisable  to 
make  a  complete  surrender,  what  was  to  become  of  them 
— poor  devils — without  aid,  without  counsel,  without  de- 
fence ?  They  were  told  that  the  government  was  about  to 
betray  their  interests ;  that  a  decree  was  in  process  of  prep- 
aration which  would  render  their  title-deeds  worthless. 
They  could  see  no  hope  of  salvation,  except  through  the 
duke's  generosity — that  generosity  which  Chupin  painted 
with  the  glowing  colours  of  a  rainbow. 

When  a  man  is  not  strong  enough  to  weather  the  gale,  he 
must  bow  like  the  reed  before  it,  and  rise  again  after  the 
storm  has  passed :  to  this  conclusion  the  frightened  peas- 
antry came.  Accordingly  they  bowed.  And  their  appar- 
ent enthusiasm  was  all  the  more  vociferous,  on  account  of 
the  rage  and  fear  that  filled  their  hearts.  A  close  observer 
would  have  detected  an  under-current  of  anger  and 
menace  in  their  shouts ;  and  in  point  of  fact  each  villager 
murmured  to  himself :  "  What  do  we  risk  by  crying, 
'Vive  le  due?'  Nothing,  absolutely  nothing.  If  he's 
satisfied  with  that  as  a  compensation  for  his  lost  prop- 
erty— all  well  and  good  !  If  he  isn't  satisfied,  we  shall 
have  time  by-and-bye  to  adopt  other  measures."  Hence 
they  all  shouted  themselves  hoarse. 

And  while  the  duke  was  sipping  his  coffee  in  the  cure's 
little  sitting-room,  he  expressed  his  lively  satisfaction  at 
the  scene  outside.  He,  this  great  lord  of  times  gone  by  j 
this  unconquerable,  incorrigible  man  of  absurd  prejudices 
and  obstinate  illusions  accepted  these  acclamations  as  if 
they  had  been  bona-fide.  Without  the  least  semblance  of 
doubt  he  blandly  mistook  the  counterfeit  coin  for  genuine 
money.  "  How  you  have  deceived  me,  to  be  sure,"  he 
said  to  the  Abbe  Midon.  "  How  could  you  declare  that 
your  people  were  unfavourably  disposed  towards  us  ?  " 

The  Abbe  Midon  was  silent.  What  could  he  reply  ?  He 
could  not  understand  this  sudden  revolution  in  public  opin- 
ion— this  abrupt  change  from  gloom  and  discontent  to  ex- 
cessive gaiety.  Something  must  have  transpired  of  which 
he  was  not  aware.  Somebody  must  have  been  at  work 
among  the  peasantry. 

It  was  not  long  before  it  became  apparent  who  that 
somebody  was.  Emboldened  by  his  success  outside,  Chu* 


3id  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

pin  ventured  to  present  himself  at  the  parsonage.  He  en- 
tered the  sitting-room,  scraping  and  cringing,  his  back  bent 
double,  and  an  obsequious  smile  upon  his  lips.  He  came 
as  an  ambassador,  he  declared,  with  numerous  protestations 
of  respect,  he  came  to  implore  "  monseigneur "  to  show 
himself  upon  the  market  place. 

"Ah,  well — yes,"  exclaimed  the  duke,  rising  from  his 
seat ;  "yes,  I  will  yield  to  the  wishes  of  these  good  people. 
Follow  me,  marquis  !  " 

As  the  duke  appeared  on  the  threshold  of  the  parsonage, 
a  loud  shout  rent  the  air  ;  a  score  of  muskets  blazed  away, 
and  the  old  salute  guns  belched  forth  smoke  and  fire. 
Never  had  Sairmeuse  heard  such  a  salvo  of  artillery ,  and 
the  shock  of  the  report  shattered  three  windows  at  the  inn 
of  the  Bceuf  Couronne. 

The  Duke  de  Sairmeuse  knew  how  to  preserve  an  ap- 
pearance of  haughty  indifference.  Any  display  of  emotion 
was  in  his  opinion  vulgar  ;  but  in  reality  he  was  perfectly 
delighted,  so  delighted  that  he  desired  to  reward  his  wel- 
comers.  A  glance  over  the  deeds  handed  him  by  Lache- 
neur  had  shown  him  that  Sairmeuse  had  been  restored  to 
him  virtually  intact.  The  portions  of  the  immense  domain 
which  had  been  detached  and  sold  separately  were  after  all 
of  little  importance.  Now,  the  duke  already  schooled 
in  a  measure  by  his  son,  thought  it  would  be  politic,  and 
at  the  same  time  inexpensive,  to  abandon  all  claim  to  these 
few  acres,  now  shared  by  forty  qr  fifty  peasants. 

"  My  friends,"  he  exclaimed  in  a  loud  voice,  "  I  renounce, 
for  myself  and  for  my  descendants,  all  claim  to  the  lands 
belonging  to  my  house  which  you  have  purchased.  They 
are  yours — I  give  them  to  you !  " 

By  this  absurd  semblance  of  a  gift,  M.  de  Sairmeuse 
thought  to  add  the  finishing  touch  to  his  popularity.  A 
great  mistake  !  It  simply  assured  the  popularity  of  Chupin, 
the  organizer  of  the  farce.  While  the  duke  was  prome- 
nading through  the  crowd  with  a  proud  and  self-satisfied 
air,  the  peasants,  despite  their  seemingly  respectful  attitude, 
were  secretly  laughing  and  jeering  at  him.  And  if  they 
promptly  took  his  part  against  Chanlouineau,  it  was  only 
because  his  gift  was  still  fresh  in  their  minds  ;  except  for 
this  iris  grace  might  have  fared  badly  indeed. 

The  duke,  however,  had  but  little  time  to  think  of  this 
encounter,  which  produced  a  vivid  impression  on  his  son. 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  311 

One  of  his  former  companions  in  exile,  the  Marquis  de 
Courtornieu,  whom  he  had  informed  of  his  arrival,  now  ap- 
peared on  the  place,  and  hastened  to  welcome  him.  The 
marquis  was  accompanied  by  his  daughter,  Mademoiselle 
Blanche.  Martial  could  not  do  otherwise  than  offer  his  arm 
to  the  daughter  of  his  father's  friend ;  and  the  young  couple 
took  a  leisurely  promenade  under  the  shade  of  the  lofty 
trees,  while  the  duke  renewed  his  acquaintance  with  all 
the  nobility  of  the  neighborhood. 

There  was  not  a  single  nobleman  who  did  not  hasten  to 
press  the  duke  de  Sairmeuse's  hand.  First,  he  possessed, 
it  was  said,  an  estate  in  England  valued  at  more  than 
twenty  millions  of  francs.  Then,  he  was  the  king's  favour- 
ite, and  each  member  of  the  local  aristocracy  had  some 
favour  to  ask  for  himself,  his  relatives,  or  friends.  Poor 
king !  If  he  had  had  twenty  kingdoms  of  France  to  divide 
like  a  cake  between  all  these  cormorants,  he  would  yet 
have  failed  to  satisfy  their  voracious  appetites. 

That  evening,  after  a  grand  banquet  at  the  Chateau  de 
Courtornieu,  the  duke  slept  at  the  Chateau  de  Sairmeuse, 
in  the  room  which  had  been  so  lately  occupied  by  Lache- 
neur.  He  was  gay,  chatty,  and  full  of  confidence  in  the  fu- 
ture. 

"  I'm  like  Louis  XVIII.  in  Bonaparte's  bedroom,"  he 
said  to  his  son  in  a  jocular  tone  ;  then  adding  with  a  shade 
of  sentiment,  "  Ah !  it's  good  to  be  in  one's  own  house 
again ! " 

But  Martial  only  tendered  a  mechanical  reply.  His 
mind  was  occupied  in  thinking  of  two  women,  who  had 
made  a  deep  impression  on  his  heart  that  day.  He  was 
thinking  of  two  girls  so  utterly  unlike — Blanche  de  Cour- 
tornieu and  Marie-Anne  Lacheneur. 


ONLY  those  who,  in  the  bright  spring-time  of  life,  have 
loved,  and  been  loved  in  return,  who  have  suddenly  seen 
an  impassable  gulf  open  between  them  and  their  future 
happiness,  can  realise  Maurice  d'Escorval's  disappointment. 
All  the  dreams  of  his  life,  all  his  future  plans,  were  based 
upon  his  love  for  Marie-Anne.  If  this  love  failed  him, 
the  enchanted  castle  which  hope  had  erected  would 


312  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

ble  and  fall,  burying  him  beneath  its  ruins.  Without 
Marie-Anne  he  saw  neither  aim  nor  motive  in  existence. 
Still  he  did  not  suffer  himself  to  be  deluded  by  false  hopes. 
Although  at  first  his  appointed  meeting  with  Marie-Anne 
on  the  following  day  seemed  salvation  itself,  on  reflection 
he  was  forced  to  admit  that  this  interview  could  bring  no 
change,  since  everything  depended  upon  the  will  of  a  third 
person,  M.  Lacheneur. 

Maurice  spent  the  remainder  of  Sunday  in  mournful  si- 
lence. Dinner  time  came  ;  and  he  took  his  seat  at  the 
table,  but  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  eat,  and  he  soon 
requested  his  parent's  permission  to  withdraw.  M.  d'Es- 
corval  and  the  baroness  exchanged  sorrowful  glances,  but 
did  not  offer  any  comment.  They  respected  his  grief; 
knowing  that  a  sorrow  such  as  his  would  only  be  aggra- 
vated by  any  attempt  at  consolation. 

"  Poor  Maurice !  "  murmured  Madame  d'Escorval,  as 
soon  as  her  son  had  left  the  room.  "  Perhaps  it  will  not  be 
prudent  for  us  to  leave  him  entirely  to  the  dictates  of  de- 
spair." 

The  baron  shuddered.  He  divined  only  too  well  his 
wife's  sad  apprehensions.  "  We  have  nothing  to  fear,"  he 
replied  quickly ;  "  I  heard  Marie- Anne  promise  to  meet 
Maurice  to-morrow  in  the  grove  mear  La  Reche." 

The  baroness,  who  in  her  anxiety  had  momentarily 
dreaded  lest  Maurice  might  commit  suicide,  now  breathed 
more  freely.  Still  she  was, a  mother,  and  her  husband's 
assurance  did  not  completely  satisfy  her.  She  hastily 
went  up  stairs,  softly  opened  the  door  of  her  son's  room 
and  looked  in. 

He  was  so  engrossed  in  gloomy  thought  that  he  neither 
heard  her  nor  even  for  an  instant  suspected  the  presence  of 
the  anxious  mother  who  was  fondly  watching  over  him. 
He  was  sitting  at  the  window,  his  elbows  resting  on  the  sill 
and  his  head  between  his  hands.  There  was  no  moon, 
but  the  night  was  clear,  and  over  and  beyond  the  light  fog 
which  indicated  the  course  of  the  Giselle,  rose  the  towers 
and  turrets  of  the  massive  Chateau  de  Sairmeuse.  More 
than  once  had  Maurice  sat  silently  gazing  at  this  stately 
pile,  which  sheltered  all  that  he  held  dearest  and  most  pre- 
cious in  the  world.  From  his  windows  Marie- Anne's  case- 
ment could  be  perceived,  and*  the  throbbing  of  his  heart 
would  quicken  whenever  he  saw  it  lighted  up.  "  She  is 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  313 

there,"  he  would  think,  "  in  her  virgin  chamber.  She  is 
praying  on  her  bended  knees,  and  she  murmurs  my  name 
after  her  father's,  imploring  heaven's  blessing  upon  us 
both." 

But  this  evening  Maurice  was  not  waiting  for  a  light  to 
gleam  through  the  panes  of  that  dear  window.  Marie-- 
Anne  was  no  longer  at  Sairmeuse — she  had  been  driven 
away.  Where  was  she  now  ?  She,  accustomed  to  all  the 
luxury  that  wealth  could  procure,  no  longer  had  any  home 
save  a  poor  thatch-roofed  hovel,  the  walls  of  which  were 
not  even  white-washed,  and  whose  only  floor  was  the  earth 
itself,  dusty  as  the  public  highway  in  summer,  and  frozen 
or  muddy  in  winter.  She  was  reduced  to  the  necessity  of 
occupying  herself  the  humble  abode  which,  in  her  charita- 
ble heart,  she  had  intended  as  an  asylum  for  one  of  her 
pensioners.  What  was  she  doing  now?  Doubtless  she 
was  weeping ;  and  at  this  thought  poor  Maurice  felt  heart- 
broken. 

What  was  his  surprise,  a  little  after  midnight,  to  see  the 
chateau  brilliantly  illuminated.  The  duke  and  his  son 
had  repaired  there  after  the  banquet  given  by  the  Marquis 
de  Courtornieu ;  and  before  going  to  bed,  they  made  a 
tour  of  inspection  through  their  ancestral  abode.  M.  de 
Sairmeuse  had  not  crossed  its  threshold  for  two-and-twenty 
years,  and  Martial  had  never  seen  it  in  his  life.  Maurice 
could  see  the  lights  leap  from  storey  to  storey,  from  case' 
ment  to  casement,  until  at  last  even  Marie-Anne's  windows 
were  illuminated. 

At  this  sight,  the  unhappy  youth  could  not  restrain  a 
cry  of  rage.  These  men,  these  strangers,  dared  to  enter 
this  virgin  bower  which  he,  even  in  thought,  scarcely  ven- 
tured to  picture.  No  doubt  they  trampled  carelessly  over 
the  delicate  carpet  with  their  heavy  boots,  and  Maurice 
trembled  to  think  of  the  liberties  which,  in  their  insolent 
familiarity,  they  might  perhaps  venture  to  take.  He  fan- 
cied he  could  see  them  examining  and  handling  the 
thousand  petty  trifles  with  which  young  girls  love  to  sur- 
round themselves,  impudently  opening  the  drawers  and 
perhaps  inquisitively  reading  an  unfinished  letter  lying  on 
the  writing-desk.  Never  until  this  night  had  Maurice 
supposed  it  possible  to  hate  any  one,  as  novr  he  hated 
these  two  men. 

At  last,  in  despair,  he  threw  himself  on  to  his  bed,  and 


3U  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

passed  the  remainder  of  the  night  in  thinking  over  what 
he  should  say  to  Marie-Anne  on  the  morrow,  and  in  seek- 
ing for  some  means  to  remove  the  difficulties  obstructing 
his  path  to  happiness.  He  rose  at  daybreak  and  spent 
the  early  morning  wandering  about  the  park,  fearing  and 
yet  longing  for  the  hour  that  would  decide  his  fate.  Mad- 
ame d'Escorval  was  obliged  to  exert  all  her  authority  to 
make  him  take  some  food,  for  he  had  quite  forgotten  that 
he  had  spent  twenty-four  hours  without  eating.  At  last, 
when  eleven  o'clock  struck,  he  left  the  house. 

The  lands  of  La  Reche  are  situated  across  the  Giselle, 
and  Maurice  to  reach  his  destination  had  to  take  a  ferry  a 
short  distance  from  his  home.  As  he  approached  the 
river-bank,  he  perceived  six  or  seven  peasants  who  were 
waiting  to  cross.  They  were  talking  in  a  loud  voice,  and 
did  not  notice  young  d'Escorval  as  he  drew  near  them. 

"  It  is  certainly  true,"  Maurice  heard  one  of  the  men 
say.  "I  heard  it  from  Chanlouineau  himself  only  last 
evening.  He  was  wild  with  delight.  '  I  invite  you  all  to 
the  wedding ! '  he  cried.  '  I  am  betrothed  to  M.  Lach- 
eneur's  daughter ;  the  affair's  decided. ' ' 

Maurice  was  well-nigh  stunned  by  this  astounding  news, 
and  he  was  actually  unable  to  think  or  to  move. 

"  Besides,"  he  heard  the  same  man  say,  "  Chanloui- 
neau's  been  in  love  with  her  for  a  long  time.  Every  one 
knows  that.  Haven't  you  ever  noticed  his  eyes  when  he 
met  her — red-hot  coals  were  nothing  to  them.  But  while 
her  father  was  so  rich,  he*  didn't  dare  speak.  However, 
now  that  the  old  man  has  met  with  this  trouble,  he  has 
ventured  to  offer  himself,  and  is  accepted." 

"An  unfortunate  thing  for  him,"  remarked  one  of  the 
listeners. 

"  Why  so  ?  " 

"  If  M.  Lacheneur  is  ruined  as  they  say " 

The  others  laughed  heartily.  "  Ruined — M.  Lache- 
neur !  "  they  exclaimed  in  chorus.  "  How  absurd  !  He's 
richer  than  all  of  us  put  together.  Do  you  suppose  he's 
been  stupid  enough  not  to  put  anything  by  during  all  these 
years  ?  He  hasn't  put  his  money  in  ground,  as  he  pre- 
tends, but  somewhere  else." 

"  What  you  are  saying  is  untrue  !  "interrupted  Maurice, 
indignantly.  "  M.  Lacheneur  left  Sairmeuse  as  poor  as  he 
entered  it." 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  315 

On  recognizing  M.  d'Escorval's  son,  the  peasants  be- 
came extremely  cautious  ;  and  to  all  his  questions  they 
would  only  give  vague  unsatisfactory  answers.  A  Sair- 
meuse  rustic  is  usually  so  dreadfully  afraid  of  compromis- 
ings  himself  that  he  will  never  give  a  frank  reply  to  a 
question  if  he  has  the  slightest  reason  to  suspect  that  his 
answer  might  displease  his  questioner.  However,  what 
Maurice  had  heard  before  sufficed  to  fill  his  heart  with 
doubt.  Directly  he  had  crossed  the  Giselle,  he  pushed  on 
rapidly  towards  La  Reche,  murmuring  as  he  went : 
"  What !  Marie-Anne  marry  Chanlouineau  ?  No  ;  that 
can  not  be.  It  is  impossible  !  " 

The  spot  termed  La  Reche — literally  the  Waste — where 
Marie-Anne  had  promised  to  meet  Maurice,  owed  its  name 
to  the  rebellious  sterile  nature  of  its  soil.  It  seems  to  have 
been  cursed  by  nature.  Boulders  strew  the  sandy  surface, 
and  vain  indeed  had  been  all  the  attempts  at  culture.  It 
is  only  here  and  there  among  the  broom  that  a  few  stunt- 
ed oaks  with  straggling  branches  manage  to  exist.  But  at 
the  edge  of  this  barren  tract  rises  a  shady  grove.  Here 
the  firs  are  straight  and  strong,  with  wild  clematis  and 
honey-suckle  clinging  to  their  stems  and  branches,  for  the 
winter  floods  have  washed  clown  from  the  high  lands  and 
left  among  the  rocks  sufficient  soil  to  sustain  them. 

On  reaching  this  grove,  Maurice  consulted  his  watch. 
It  was  just  noon  ;  he  had  feared  he  was  late,  but  he  was 
fully  an  hour  in  advance  of  the  appointed  time.  He  seat- 
ed himself  on  a  ledge  of  one  of  the  high  rocks  scattered 
among  the  firs,  whence  he  could  survey  the  entire  Reche, 
and  waited. 

The  weather  was  sultry  in  the  extreme.  The  rays  of 
the  scorching  August  sun  fell  on  the  sandy  soil,  and 
speedily  withered  the  few  weeds  which  had  sprung  up 
since  the  last  rainfall.  The  stillness  was  profound.  Not 
a  sound  broke  the  silence,  not  even  the  chirp  of  a  bird,  the 
buzzing  of  an  insect,  nor  the  faintest  whisper  of  a  breeze 
passing  through  the  firs.  All  nature  was  apparently 
asleep — taking  its  siesta — and  there  was  nothing  to  re- 
mind one  of  life,  motion,  or  mankind.  This  repose  of 
nature,  which  contrasted  so  vividly  with  the  tumult  raging 
in  his  own  heart,  soon  exerted  a  beneficial  effect  on  Mau- 
rice. These  few  moments  of  solitude  afforded  him  an 
opportunity  to  regain  his  composure,  and  to  collect  his 


316  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

thoughts  scattered  by  the  storm  of  passion,  as  leaves  are 
scattered  by  the  fierce  November  gale. 

With  sorrow  comes  experience,  and  that  cruel  knowl- 
edge of  life  which  teaches  one  to  guard  one's  self  against 
one's  hopes.  It  was  not  until  he  heard  the  conversation 
of  the  peasants  standing  near  the  ferry  that  Maurice  fully 
realized  the  horror  of  Lacheneur's  position.  Suddenly 
precipitated  from  the  social  eminence  he  had  attained, 
the  whilom  lord  of  Sairmeuse  found,  in  the  valley  of 
humiliation  into  which  he  was  cast,  only  hatred,  distrust, 
and  scorn.  Both  factions  despised  and  derided  him.  Trai- 
tor, cried  one ;  thief,  cried  the  other.  He  no  longer  held 
any  social  status.  He  was  the  fallen  man,  the  man  who 
had  been,  and  who  was  no  more.  Was  not  the  excessive 
misery  of  such  a  position  a  sufficient  explanation  of  the 
strangest  and  wildest  resolutions? 

This  thought  made  Maurice  tremble.  Connecting  the 
conversation  of  the  peasants  with  the  words  spoken  by 
Lacheneur  to  Chanlouineau  on  the  preceding  evening  at 
Escorval,  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  this  report  of 
Marie-Anne's  marriage  to  the  young  farmer  was  not  so 
improbable  as  he  had  at  first  supposed.  But  why  should 
M.  Lacheneur  give  his  daughter  to  an  uncultured  peasant  ? 
From  mercenary  motives  ?  Certainly  not,  since  he  had 
just  refused  an  alliance  of  which  he  had  been  justly  proud 
even  in  his  days  of  prosperity.  Could  it  be  in  order  to 
satisfy  his  wounded  pride  then  ?  Perhaps  so ;  possibly  he 
did  not  wish  it  to  be  said  that  he  owed  anything  to  a 
son-in-law. 

Maurice  was  exhausting  all  his  ingenuity  and  penetra- 
tion in  endeavouring  to  solve  this  knotty  point,  when  at 
last,  along  the  foot-path  crossing  the  waste,  he  perceived  a 
figure  approaching  him.  It  was  Marie-Anne.  He  rose  to 
his  feet,  but  fearing  observation  did  not  venture  to  leave 
the  shelter  of  the  grove.  Marie-Anne  must  have  felt  a 
similar  fear,  for  as  she  hurried  on  she  cast  anxious  glances 
on  every  side.  Maurice  remarked,  not  without  surprise, 
that  she  was  bare-headed,  and  had  neither  shawl  nor  scarf 
about  her  shoulders. 

As  she  reached  the  edge  of  the  wood,  he  sprang  towards 
her,  and  catching  hold  of  her  hand  raised  it  to  his  lips. 
But  this  hand  which  she  had  so  often  yielded  to  him  was 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  317 

now  gently  withdrawn,  and  with  so  sad  a  gesture  that  he 
could  not  help  feeling  there  was  no  hope. 

"  I  came,  Maurice,"  she  began,  "  because  I  could  not 
endure  the  thought  of  your  anxiety.  By  doing  so  I  have 
betrayed  my  father's  confidence.  He  was  obliged  to  leave 
home,  and  I  hastened  here ;  and  yet  I  promised  him,  only 
two  hours  ago,  that  I  would  never  see  you  again.  You 
hear  me — never  ! " 

She  spoke  hurriedly,  but  Maurice  was  appalled  by  the 
firmness  of  her  accent.  Had  he  been  less  agitated,  he 
would  have  seen  what  a  terrible  effort  this  semblance  of 
calm  cost  the  girl  he  loved.  He  would  have  detected  the 
agony  she  was  striving  to  conceal  in  the  pallor  of  her 
cheeks,  the  twitching  of  her  lips,  and  the  redness  of  her 
eye-lids  which,  although  recently  bathed  with  fresh  water, 
still  betrayed  the  tears  she  had  wept  during  the  night. 

"  If  I  have  come,"  she  continued,  "  it  is  only  to  tell  you 
that,  for  your  own  sake,  as  well  as  for  mine,  you  must  not 
retain  the  slightest  shadow  of  hope.  It  is  all  over ;  we 
must  separate  for  ever  !  It  is  only  weak  natures  that  re- 
volt against  a  destiny  which  cannot  be  altered.  Let  us 
accept  our  fate  uncomplainingly.  I  wished  to  see  you 
once  more,  and  to  bid  you  be  of  good  courage.  Go  away, 
Maurice — leave  Escorval — forget  me  !  " 

'*  Forget  you,  Marie-Anne  !  "  exclaimed  the  poor  fellow, 
"  forget  you  !  "  His  eyes  met  hers,  and  in  a  husky  voice 
he  added :  "  Will  you  then  forget  me  ? " 

"  I  am  a  woman,  Maurice — " 

But  he  interrupted  her.  "  Ah  !  I  did  not  expect  this," 
he  said,  despondingly.  "  Poor  fool  that  I  was !  I  be- 
lieved you  would  surely  find  a  way  to  touch  your  father's 
heart." 

She  blushed  slightly,  and  with  evident  hesitation,  re- 
plied, "  I  threw  myself  at  my  father's  feet,  but  he  re- 
pulsed me." 

Maurice  was  thunderstruck,  but  recovering  himself :  "  It 
was  because  you  did  not  know  how  to  speak  to  him  !  "  he 
exclaimed  with  passionate  emphasis  ;  "  but  I  shall  know 
how  I  will  present  such  arguments  that  he  will  be  forced 
to  yield.  Besides,  what  right  has  he  to  ruin  my  happiness 
with  his  caprices  ?  I  love  you,,  you  love  me,  and  by  the 
right  of  love,  you  are  mine — mine  rather  than  his  1  I  will 


318  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

make  him  understand  this,  you  shall  see.  Where  is  he  ? 
Where  can  I  find  him  ? " 

Already  he  was  starting  to  go,  he  knew  not  where,  when 
Marie-Anne  caught  him  by  the  arm.  "  Remain  here,"  she 
answered  in  a  tone  of  authority  surprising  in  one  of  her 
sex  and  youth,  "  remain  !  Ah,  you  have  failed  to  under- 
stand me,  Maurice.  But  you  must  know  the  truth.  I  am 
acquainted  now  with  the  reasons  of  my  father's  refusal  ; 
and  though  his  decision  should  cost  me  my  life,  I  approve 
it.  Don't  try  to  find  my  father.  If  he  were  moved  by 
your  prayers,  and  gave  his  consent,  I  should  have  the 
courage  to  refuse  mine  !  " 

Maurice  was  so  beside  himself  that  this  reply  did  not 
enlighten  him.  Crazed  with  anger  and  despair,  regardless 
even  of  how  he  spoke  to  the  woman  he  loved  so  deeply,  he 
exclaimed  :  "  Is  it  for  Chanlouineau,  then,  that  you  are  re- 
serving your  consent?  I've  already  heard  that  he  goes 
about  everywhere  saying  you  will  soon  be  his  wife." 

Marie-Anne  could  not  conceal  all  resentment  of  these 
words ;  and  yet  there  was  more  sorrow  than  anger  in  the 
glance  she  cast  on  Maurice.  "  Must  I  stoop  so  low  as  to 
defend  myself  from  such  an  imputation  ? "  she  asked 
sadly.  "  Must  I  tell  you  that  even  if  I  suspect  such  an 
arrangement  between  my  father  and  Chanlouineau,  I  have 
not  been  consulted?  Must  I  tell  you  that  there  are  some 
sacrifices  which  are  beyond  the  strength  of  human  nature  ? 
Understand  this :  I  have  found  strength  to  renounce  the 
man  I  love — I  shall  never  be  able  to  accept  another  in  his 
place ! " 

Maurice  hung  his  head,  abashed  by  her  earnest  words, 
and  dazzled  by  the  sublime  expression  of  her  face.  Reason 
returned  to  him  ;  he  realised  the  enormity  of  his  suspi- 
cions, and  was  horrified  with  himself  for  having  dared  to 
give  them  utterance.  "  Oh !  forgive  me  ! "  he  faltered, 
"  forgive  me  !  " 

What  did  the  mysterious  motive  of  all  these  events  which 
had  so  rapidly  succeeded  each  other,  what  did  M.  Lach- 
eneur's  secrets  or  Marie-Anne's  reticence  matter  to  him 
now  ?  He  was  seeking  some  chance  of  salvation,  and  be- 
lieved that  he  had  found  it.  "We  must  fly!"  he  ex- 
claimed ;  "  fly  at  once  without  pausing  to  look  back. 
Before  night  we  shall  have  crossed  the  frontier."  So  say- 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  319 

ing,  he  sprang  towards  her  with  outstretched  arms  as  if 
to  seize  her  and  carry  her  off. 

But  she  checked  him  by  a  single  look.  "  Fly  !  "  said 
she  reproachfully  ;  "  fly  ! — and  is  it  you,  Maurice,  who 
thus  advises  me  ?  What !  while  my  poor  father  is  crushed 
with  misfortune,  am  I  to  add  despair  and  shame  to  his 
sorrows?  His  friends  have  deserted  him;  must  I,  his 
daughter,  also  abandon  him  ?  Ah !  if  I  did  that,  I 
should  be  a  vile,  cowardly  creature  !  If,  when  I  believed 
my  father  to  be  the  true  owner  of  Sairmeuse,  he  had  asked 
of  me  such  a  sacrifice  as  that  I  consented  to  last  night,  I 
might,  perhaps,  have  resolved  on  doing  what  you  say.  I 
might  have  left  Sairmeuse  in  broad  day-light  on  my  lover's 
arm,  for  it  isn't  the  world  I  fear  !  But  if  one  might  fly 
from  the  chateau  of  a  wealthy  happy  father,  one  cannot  de- 
sert a  despairing,  penniless  parent.  Leave  me,  Maurice, 
where  honour  holds  me.  It  will  not  be  difficult  for  me, 
the  daughter  of  generations  of  peasants,  to  become  a 
peasant  myself.  Leave  me  !  I  cannot  endure  any  more  ! 
Go!  and  remember  that  it  is  impossible  to  be  utterly 
wretched  if  one's  conscience  is  clean,  and  one's  duty 
fulfilled ! " 

Maurice  was  about  to  reply,  when  a  crackling  of  dry 
branches  made  him  turn  his  head.  Scarcely  ten  paces  off, 
Martial  de  Sairmeuse  was  standing  under  the  firs  leaning 
on  his  gun. 


VI. 

THE  Duke  de  Sairmeuse  had  indulged  in  but  little  sleep 
on  the  night  of  his  return,  or  as  he  phrased  it  "of  his 
restoration."  Although  he  pretended  to  be  inaccessible  to 
the  emotions  which  agitate  the  common  herd,  the  scenes  of 
the  day  had  in  point  of  fact  greatly  excited  him ;  and,  on 
lying  down  to  rest,  he  could  not  help  reviewing  them,  al- 
though he  made  it  a  rule  of  life  never  to  reflect.  While  ex- 
posed to  the  scrutiny  of  the  village  peasants  and  of  his 
own  aristocratic  acquaintances,  he  had  felt  that  honour  re- 
quired him  to  appear  cold  and  indifferent  to  everything 
that  transpired,  but  as  soon  as  he  was  alone  in  the  privacy 
of  his  own  bed-room,  he  gave  free  vent  to  his  satisfaction. 

This  satisfaction  amounted  to  perfect  joy,  almost  v«rg- 


3«o  MONSIEUR '  LECOQ. 

ing  on  delirium.  He  was  now  forced  to  admit  to  himself 
Lacheneur  had  rendered  him  an  immense  service  in  volun- 
tarily restoring  Sairmeuse.  This  man  to  whom  he  had  dis- 
played the  blackest  ingratitude,  this  man,  honest  to  hero- 
ism, whom  he  had  treated  like  an  unfaithful  servant,  had 
just  relieved  him  of  an  anxiety  which  had  long  poisoned 
his  life.  Indeed,  Lacheneur  had  just  placed  the  Duke  de 
Sairmeuse  beyond  the  reach  of  a  very  possible  calamity 
which  he  had  dreaded  for  some  time  back. 

If  his  secret  anxiety  had  been  made  known,  it  would 
have  caused  some  little  merriment.  The  less  fortunate  of 
the  returning  emigres  were  in  the  habit  of  remarking  that 
the  Sairmeuses  would  never  know  want  as  they  possessed 
property  in  England  of  a  value  of  many  million  francs. 
Broadly  speaking,  the  statement  was  true,  only  the  prop- 
erty in  question — property  coming  from  Martial's  mother 
and  maternal  grandfather — had  not  been  left  to  the  duke, 
but  to  Martial  himself.  It  is  true  that  the  Duke  de  Sair- 
meuse enjoyed  absolute  control  over  this  enormous  fortune ; 
he  disposed  of  the  capital  and  the  immense  revenues  just 
as  he  pleased,  although  in  reality  everything  belonged  to 
his  son — to  his  only  son.  The  duke  himself  possessed 
nothing — a  pitiful  income  of  twelve  hundred  francs,  or  so, 
strictly  speaking,  not  even  the  means  of  subsistence. 

Martial,  who  was  just  coming  of  age,  had  certainly  never 
uttered  a  word  which  might  lead  his  father  to  suppose  that 
he  had  any  intention  of  removing  the  property  from  his 
control ;  still  this  word  might  some  day  or  another  be 
spoken,  and  at  the  thought  of  such  a  contingency  the  duke 
shuddered  with  horror.  He  saw  himself  reduced  to  a  pen- 
sion, a  very  handsome  pension  undoubtedly,  but  still  a 
fixed,  immutable,  regular  allowance,  by  which  he  would  be 
obliged  to  regulate  his  expenditure.  He  would  have  to 
calculate  that  two  ends  might  meet — he,  who  had  been 
accustomed  to  inexhaustible  coffers.  "  And  this  will  nec- 
essarily happen  sooner  or  later,"  he  thought. 

"If  Martial  should  marry,  if  he  should  become  ambi- 
tious, or  meet  with  evil  counsellors,  then  my  reign  will 
end." 

Hence,  the  duke  watched  and  studied  his  son  much 
as  a  jealous  woman  studies  and  watches  the  lover  she  mis- 
trusts. He  thought  he  could  read  in  his  son's  eyes  many 
thoughts  wkich  Martial  never  had;  he  carefully  noted 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  321 

whether  the  Marquis  was  gay  or  sad,  careless  or  preoccu- 
pied, and  according  to  the  young  man's  mood,  he  became 
reassured  or  grew  still  more  alarmed.  Sometimes  he  im« 
agined  the  worst.  "  If  I  should  quarrel  by-and-by  with 
Martial,"  he  thought,  "  he  would  take  possession  of  his  en- 
tire fortune,  and  I  should  be  left  absolutely  without 
bread.'" 

To  a  man  like  the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse,  who  judged  the 
sentiments  of  others  by  his  own,  these  torturing  apprehen- 
sions proved  a  terrible  chastisement ;  and  there  were  days 
when  his  personal  poverty  and  impotence  well-nigh  drove 
him  mad.  "  What  am  I  ? "  he  would  say  to  himself  in  a 
fit  of  rage.  "  A  mere  plaything  in  the  hands  of  a  child. 
My  son  owns  me.  If  I  displease  him,  he  will  cast  me 
aside.  Yes,  he  will  be  able  to  dismiss  me  just  as  he  would 
a  lacquey.  If  I  enjoy  his  fortune,  it  will  be  because  he 
allows  me  to  do  so.  I  owe  my  very  existence,  as  well  as 
my  luxuries,  to  his  charity.  But  a  moment's  anger,  even  a 
whim,  may  deprive  me  of  everything." 

With  such  ideas  in  his  brain,  the  duke  could  not  love  his 
son.  Indeed,  he  hated  him.  He  passionately  envied  him 
all  the  advantages  he  possessed — his  youth,  his  millions, 
his  physical  good  looks,  and  his  talents,  which  were  really 
of  a  superior  order.  We  every  day  meet  mothers  who  are 
jeaJ^s  of  their  daughters,  and  in  the  same  way  there  are 
raters  who  are  jealous  of  their  sons.  This  was  one  of 
those  cases.  The  duke,  however,  showed  no  outward  sign 
of  mental  disquietude ;  and  if  Martial  had  possessed  less 
penetration,  he  might  have  believed  that  his  father  adored 
hJm.  However,  if  he  had  detected  the  duke's  secret,  he 
d;d  not  reveal  his  knowledge,  nor  did  he  abuse  his  power. 
1  heir  manner  towards  each  other  was  perfect.  The  duke 
was  kind  even  to  weakness ;  Martial  full  of  deference. 
But  their  relations  were  not  those  of  father  and  son.  One 
was  in  constant  fear  of  displeasing  the  other ;  the  other  a 
little  too  sure  of  his  power.  They  lived  on  a  footing  of 
perfect  equality,  like  two  companions  of  the  same  age. 
From  this  trying  situation,  Lacheneur  had  now  rescued 
the  duke.  On  becoming  once  more  the  owner  of  Sair- 
meuse,  an  estate  worth  more  than  three  million  francs, 
his  grace  freed  himself  from  his  son's  tyranny ;  and  recov- 
ered all  his  liberty.  What  brilliant  projects  flitted  through 
his  brain  that  night !  He  beheld  himself  the  richest  land- 
si 


32*  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

owner  in  the  province ;  and  in  addition  he  was  the  king's 
chosen  friend.  To  what  then  might  he  not  aspire  ? 
Such  a  prospect  enchanted  him.  He  felt  quite  young 
again :  he  had  shaken  off  the  twenty  years  he  had  spent 
in  exile.  So,  rising  before  nine  o'clock,  he  went  to  Mar- 
tial's room  to  rouse  him. 

On  returning  from  dining  with  the  Marquis  de  Courtor- 
nieu,  the  evening  before,  the  duke  had  promenaded  through 
the  chateau;  but  this  hasty  inspection  by  candle-light  had 
not  satisfied  his  curiosity.  He  wished  to  visit  everything 
in  detail  now  that  it  was  day.  So,  followed  by  his  son,  he 
explored  one  after  another  the  numerous  rooms  of  this 
princely  abode ;  and  at  every  step  he  took,  the  recol- 
lections of  childhood  crowded  upon  him.  Lacheneur  had 
such  a  wonderful  respect  for  all  the  appointments  of  the 
chateau,  that  the  duke  found  things  as  old  as  himself  re- 
ligiously preserved,  and  occupying  the  old  familiar  places 
from  which  they  had  never  been  removed. 

"  Decidedly,  marquis,"  he  exclaimed  when  his  inspection 
was  concluded,  "  this  Lacheneur  wasn't  such  a  rascal  as  I 
supposed.  I  am  disposed  to  forgive  him  a  great  deal,  on 
account  of  the  care  he  has  taken  of  our  house  in  our  ab- 
sence." 

Martial  seemed  engrossed  in  thought.  "  I  think,  sir," 
he  said,  at  last,  "that  we  should  show  our  gratitude  to 
this  man  by  paying  him  a  large  indemnity." 

This  last  word  excited  the  duke's  anger.  "An  indem- 
nity! "he  exclaimed.  "Are  you  mad,  marquis?  Think 
of  the  income  he  has  received  out  of  my  estate.  Have 
you  forgotten  the  calculation  made  for  us  last  evening  by 
the  Chevalier  de  la  Livandiere  ?  " 

"  The  chevalier  is  a  fool !  "  declared  Martial,  promptly. 
"  He  forgot  that  Lacheneur  has  trebled  the  value  of  Sair- 
meuse.  I  think  our  family  honour  requires  us  to  give  this 
man  an  indemnity  of,  at  least,  a  hundred  thousand  francs. 
This  would,  moreover,  be  a  good  stroke  of  policy  in  the 
present  state  of  public  sentiment,  and  his  majesty  would, 
I  am  sure,  be  much  pleased  if  we  did  so." 

"  Stroke  of  policy  " — "  public  sentiment  " — "  his  majes- 
ty." You  might  have  obtained  almost  anything  from  M. 
de  Sairmeuse  by  such  words  and  arguments  as  these. 

"  Heavenly  powers  1 "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  a  hundred  thow 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  323 

sand  francs  !  how  you  talk  !  It  is  all  very  well  for  you, 
with  your  fortune  !  Still,  if  you  really  think  so — " 

"  Ah  !  my  dear  sir,  isn't  my  fortune  yours  ?  Yes,  such 
is  really  my  opinion.  So  much  so,  indeed,  that,  if  you 
will  permit  it,  I  will  see  Lacheneur  myself,  and  arrange 
the  matter  in  such  a  way  that  his  pride  won't  be  wounded. 
It  would  be  worth  our  while  to  retain  such  devotion  as 
his." 

The  duke  opened  his  eyes  to  their  widest  extent.  "  Lach- 
eneur's  pride  !  "  he  murmured.  "  Worth  while  to  retain 
his  devotion  !  Why  do  you  talk  in  that  strain  ?  What's 
the  reason  of  this  extraordinary  interest  ? " 

He  paused,  enlightened  by  a  sudden  recollection.  "  Ah, 
I  understand !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  I  understand.  He  has 
a  pretty  daughter."  Martial  smiled  without  replying. 

"  Yes,  as  pretty  as  a  rose,"  continued  the  duke  ;  "  but  a 
hundred  thousand  francs ;  zounds  !  That's  a  round  sum 
to  pay  for  such  a  whim.  But,  if  you  insist  upon  it — " 

After  this  the  matter  was  settled  and,  two  hours  later, 
armed  with  the  authorization  he  had  solicited,  Martial 
started  on  his  mission.  The  first  peasant  he  met  told  him 
the  way  to  the  cottage  which  M.  Lacheneur  now  occupied. 
"  Follow  the  river,"  said  the  man,  "  and  when  you  see  a 
pine  grove  on  your  left,  cross  through  it  and  follow  the 
path  over  the  waste." 

Martial  was  crossing  through  the  grove  when  he  heard 
the  sound  of  voices.  He  approached,  recognized  Marie- 
Anne  and  Maurice  d'Escorval,  and  obeying  an  angry 
impulse,  paused. 

During  the  decisive  moments  of  life,  when  one's  entire 
future  depends  on  a  word  or  a  gesture,  twenty  contradic- 
tory inspirations  can  traverse  the  mind  in  the  time  occupied 
by  a  flash  of  lightning. 

On  thus  suddenly  perceiving  the  young  Marquis  de  Sair- 
meuse,  Maurice  d'Escorval's  first  thought  was — How  long 
has  he  been  here  ?  Has  he  been  playing  the  spy  ?  Has 
he  been  listening  to  us  ?  What  did  he  hear  ?  His  first 
impulse  was  to  spring  upon  his  enemy,  to  strike  him  in 
the  face,  and  compel  him  to  engage  in  a  hand-to-hand 
struggle.  The  thought  of  Marie- Anne  checked  him,  how- 
ever. He  reflected  upon  the  possible,  even  probable 
results  of  a  quarrel  arising  under  such  circumstances. 
The  combat  which  would  ensue  would  cost  this  pure  young 


ja4  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

girl  her  reputation.  Martial  would  talk  about  it;  and 
country  folks  are  pitiless.  He  could  imagine  Marie- 
Anne  becoming  the  talk  of  the  neighbourhood,  and  saw 
the  finger  of  scorn  pointed  at  her.  Accordingly,  he  made 
a  great  effort  and  mastered  his  anger.  These  reflections 
occupied  merely  a  few  seconds,  and  then  young  d'Escorval 
politely  touching  his  hat,  advanced  towards  Martial  and 
observed, 

"  You  are  a  stranger,  sir,  and  have  no  doubt  lost  your 
way  ? " 

His  words  were  ill-chosen,  and  defeated  his  prudent  in- 
tentions. A  curt  "  Mind  your  own  business  "  would  have 
been  less  wounding.  He  forgot  that  this  word  "  stranger  " 
was  the  most  deadly  insult  that  one  could  cast  in  the  face 
of  the  former  emigres,  now  returning  in  the  rear  of  the 
allies. 

However,  the  young  marquis  did  not  change  his  non- 
chalant attitude.  He  touched  the  peak  of  his  hunting  cap 
with  one  finger,  and  replied  :  "  It's  true  I've  lost  my  way." 

Marie-Anne,  despite  her  agitation,  easily  perceived  that 
her  presence  alone  restrained  the  hatred  animating  these 
young  men.  Their  attitude,  and  the  glance  with  which 
they  measured  each  other,  plainly  spoke  of  hostile  feelings. 
If  one  of  them  was  ready  to  spring  upon  the  other,  the 
latter  was  on  the  alert,  prepared  to  defend  himself. 

A  short  pause  followed  the  marquis's  last  words.  At 
length  he  spoke  again.  "  A  peasant's  directions  are  not 
generally  remarkable  for  their  clearness,"  he  said,  lightly  ; 
"  and  for  more  than  an  hour  I  have  been  trying  to  find 
the  house  to  which  M.  Lacheneur  has  retired." 

"  Ah ! " 

"  I  am  sent  to  him  by  the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse,  my  fa- 
ther." 

Knowing  what  he  did,  Maurice  supposed  that  these 
strangely  rapacious  individuals  had  some  fresh  claim  to 
make.  "I  thought,"  said  he,  "that  all  relations  between 
M.  Lacheneur  and  M.  de  Sairmeuse -were  broken  off  yes- 
terday evening  at  the  abbe's  house." 

This  was  said  in  the  most  provoking  tone,  and  yet 
Martial  never  so  much  as  frowned.  He  had  sworn  that 
he  would  remain  calm,  and  he  had  strength  enough  to 
keep  his  word.  "  If  these  relations  have  been  broken  off," 


MONSIEUR  LBCOQ.  325 

he  replied,  "  believe  me,  M.  d'Escorval,  it  is  no  fault  of 
ours." 

'  Then  it  is  not  as  people  say  ? " 

'  What  people  ?     Who  ?  " 

'  The  people  here  in  the  neighbourhood." 

'  Ah !     And  what  do  these  people  say  ?  " 

'  The  truth ;  that  you  have  been  guilty  of  an  offence 
which  a  man  of  honour  could  never  forgive  nor  forget." 

The  young  marquis  shook  his  head  gravely.  "Your 
condemnation  is  very  hasty,  sir,"  he  said,  coldly.  "  Permit 
me  to  hope  that  M.  Lacheneur  will  be  less  severe  than  you 
are ;  and  that  his  resentment,  his  just  resentment,  I  confess, 
will  vanish  before  a  truthful  explanation." 

Martial  profited  by  the  effect  he  had  produced  to  walk 
towards  Marie-Anne,  and,  addressing  himself  exclusively 
to  her,  now  seemed  to  completely  ignore  Maurice's  pres- 
ence. "  For  there  has  been  a  mistake — a  misunderstand- 
ing, mademoiselle,"  he  continued.  "  Do  not  doubt  it. 
The  Sairmeuses  are  not  ingrates.  How  could  any  one 
have  supposed  that  we  would  intentionally  give  offence  to 
a  devoted  friend  of  our  family,  and  that  at  a  moment  when 
he  had  rendered  us  such  signal  service  !  A  true  gentle- 
man like  my  father,  and  a  hero  of  probity  like  yours, 
cannot  fail  to  esteem  each  other.  I  admit  that  yesterday 
M.  de  Sairmeuse  did  not  appear  to  advantage;  but  the 
step  he  takes  to-day  proves  his  sincere  regret." 

Certainly  this  was  not  the  cavalier  tone  which  Martial 
had  employed  in  speaking  to  Marie-Anne  for  the  first  time 
on  the  square  in  front  of  the  church.  He  had  removed 
his  cap,  his  attitude  was  full  of  deference,  and  he  spoke  as 
respectfully  as  though  he  were  addressing  some  haughty 
duchess,  instead  of  the  humble  daughter  of  that  "  rascal  " 
Lacheneur.  Was  this  only  a  roue's  manoeuvre  ?  Or  had 
a  true  sense  of  this  noble  girl's  sterling  worth  penetrated 
his  heart  ?  Perhaps  it  was  both.  At  all  events  it  would 
have  been  difficult  for  him  to  say  how  far  the  homage  he 
thus  paid  was  intentional,  and  how  far  involuntary. 

"  My  father,"  he  continued,  "  is  an  old  man  who  has 
had  cruel  sufferings.  Exile  is  hard  to  bear.  But  if  sorrow 
and  deception  have  embittered  his  character,  they  have 
not  changed  his  heart.  His  apparent  imperiousness  con- 
ceals a  kindness  of  heart  which  I  have  often  seen  degener- 
ate into  positive  weakness.  And — why  should  I  riot  con- 


326  MONSIEUR  LECOQ* 

fess  it  ? — the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse,  with  his  white  hair,  still 
retains  the  illusions  of  a  child.  He  refuses  to  believe 
that  the  world  has  progressed  during  the  past  twenty  years. 
Moreover,  people  had  deceived  him  by  the  most  absurd 
fabrications.  To  speak  plainly,  even  while  we  were  in 
Montaignac,  M.  Lacheneur's  enemies  succeeded  in  preju- 
dicing my  father  against  him." 

One  might  have  sworn  that  Martial  was  speaking  the 
truth ;  for  his  voice  was  so  persuasive,  and  his  glance,  his 
gestures,  and  the  expression  on  his  face  corresponded  so 
fittingly  with  his  words.  Maurice,  who  felt  certain  that 
young  de  Sairmeuse  was  lying,  impudently  lying,  was 
abashed  by  this  scientific  prevarication,  so  universally 
practiced  in  good  society,  but  of  which  he  was  happily 
and  utterly  ignorant.  However,  if  the  marquis  were  lying, 
what  did  he  want  here,  and  what  was  the  meaning  of  this 
farce  ? 

"Need  I  tell  you,  mademoiselle,"  Martial  resumed,  "all 
that  I  suffered  last  evening  in  the  little  sitting-room  in  the 
parsonage  ?  Never  in  my  whole  life  can  I  recollect  such 
a  cruel  moment !  I  understood,  and  I  did  honour  to  M. 
Lacheneur's  heroism.  Hearing  of  our  arrival,  he  came 
without  hesitation,  without  delay,  to  voluntarily  surrender 
a  princely  fortune — and  he  was  insulted.  This  excessive 
injustice  horrified  me.  And  if  I  did  not  openly  protest 
against  it — if  I  did  not  show  my  indignation — it  was  only 
because  contradiction  drives  my  father  to  the  verge  of 
frenzy.  And  what  good  would  it  have  done  for  me  to  pro- 
test  ?  Your  filial  love  and  piety  had  a  far  more  powerful 
effect  than  any  words  of  mine  would  have  had.  You  were 
scarcely  out  of  the  house  before  the  duke,  already  ashamed 
of  his  injustice,  said  to  me ;  '  I  have  been  wrong,  but  I  am 
an  old  man :  it  is  hard  for  me  to  decide  to  make  the  first 
advance ;  you,  marquis,  go  and  find  M.  Lacheneur,  and 
obtain  his  forgiveness.'  " 

Marie-Anne  redder  than  a  peony,  and  terribly  embar- 
rassed, lowered  her  eyes.  "  I  thank  you,  sir,"  she  faltered. 
"  in  my  father's  name — " 

"  Oh  !  do  not  thank  me,"  interrupted  Martial  earnestly  ; 
"  it  will  be  my  duty,  on  the  contrary,  to  give  you  thanks, 
if  you  can  induce  M.  Lacheneur  to  accept  the  reparation 
which  is  due  to  him — and  he  will  accept  it,  if  you  will  only 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  327 

condescend  to  plead  our  cause.  Who  could  resist  your 
sweet  voice,  your  beautiful  beseeching  eyes  ? " 

However  inexperienced  Maurice  might  be,  he  could  no 
longer  fail  to  comprehend  Martial's  intentions.  This  man 
whom  he  mortally  hated  already,  dared  to  speak  of  love  to 
Marie-Anne,  and  in  his  presence.  In  other  words,  the 
marquis,  not  content  with  having  ignored  and  insulted 
him,  presumed  to  take  an  insolent  advantage  of  his  sup- 
posed simplicity.  The  certainty  of  this  outrage  made  his 
blood  boil.  He  seized  Martial  by  the  arm,  and  threw  him 
forcibly  against  a  fir  tree,  several  paces  off.  "  This  last  is 
too  much,  Marquis  de  Sairmeuse  ! "  he  cried. 

Maurice's  attitude  was  so  threatening,  that  Martial  fully 
expected  another  attack.  He  had  fallen  on  one  knee ; 
without  rising  he  now  raised  his  gun,  as  if  to  take  aim. 
It  was  not  from  anything  like  cowardice  that  the  Marquis  de 
Sairmeuse  felt  an  impulse  to  fire  upon  an  unarmed  foe  { 
but  the  affront  which  he  had  received  was  in  his  opinion 
so  dastardly  that  he  would  have  shot  Maurice  like  a  dog, 
rather  than  feel  the  weight  of  his  hand  upon  his  arm 
again. 

For  some  minutes  previously,  Marie-Anne  had  been 
expecting  and  hoping  for  Maurice's  outburst  of  anger. 
She  was  even  more  inexperienced  than  her  lover ;  but  she 
was  a  woman,  and  could  not  fail  to  understand  the  mean- 
ing of  the  young  marquis's  manner.  He  was  evidently 
"  paying  his  court  to  her."  And  with  what  intentions,  it 
was  only  too  easy  to  divine.  Her  agitation,  while  the 
marquis  spoke  to  her  in  an  unceasingly  tender  voice,  had 
changed  at  first  to  stupor,  and  then  to  indignation,  as  she 
realized  his  marvellous  audacity.  After  that,  how  could 
she  help  blessing  the  act  of  violence  which  had  curtailed 
a  situation,  so  insulting  for  herself  and  so  humiliating  for 
Maurice  ?  An  ordinary  woman  would  have  thrown  her- 
self between  two  men  anxious  to  kill  each  other ;  but 
Marie-Anne  remained  impassive.  Was  it  not  Maurice's 
duty  to  protect  her  when  she  was  insulted  ?  Who,  then,  if 
not  he,  should  defend  her  from  this  young  roue's  insolent 
gallantry  ?  She  would  have  blushed,  she  who  was  energy 
personified,  to  love  a  weak  and  pusillanimous  man. 

But  after  all,  intervention  was  quite  unnecessary ;  for 
Maurice  understood  that  the  situation  required  him  to  ba 
very  cautious  under  penalty  of  giving  the  offending  party 


3*8  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

the  advantage.  He  felt  that  Marie-Anne  must  not  be 
regarded  as  the  cause  of  the  quarrel ;  and  this  thought  at 
once  produced  a  powerful  reaction  in  his  mind.  He  recov- 
ered, as  if  by  magic,  his  usual  coolness  and  the  free  exer- 
cise of  his  faculties. 

"  Yes,"  he  resumed,  in  a  bold  voice,  "  this  is  hypocrisy 
enough.  To  dare  to  prate  of  reparation  after  the  insults 
that  you  and  yours  have  inflicted,  is  adding  intentional 
humiliation  to  injury — and  I  will  not  permit  it." 

Martial  had  thrown  aside  his  gun  ;  he  now  rose,  and 
with  a  phlegm  he  had  learnt  in  England,  complacently 
brushed  his  dusty  knee.  He  was  too  discerning  not  to 
perceive  that  Maurice  had  purposely  disguised  the  true 
cause  of  his  passionate  outburst ;  and  though  he  would 
not  have  been  displeased  if  young  d'Escorval  had  confessed 
the  truth,  the  matter  was  after  all  of  little  moment. 

However,  it  was  necessary  to  make  some  reply,  and  to 
preserve  the  superiority  which  he  imagined  he  had  hitherto 
maintained.  "  You  will  never  know,  sir,"  he  said,  glancing 
alternately  at  his  gun  and  at  Marie- Anne,  "  all  that  you 
owe  to  Mademoiselle  Lacheneur.  We  shall  meet  again,  I 
hope " 

"  You  have  made  that  remark  before,"  Maurice  inter- 
rupted, tauntingly.  "  Nothing  is  easier  than  to  find  me. 
The  first  peasant  you  meet  will  point  out  the  Baron  d'Es 
corval's  house." 

"  Very  good,  sir,  I  can't  promise  but  that  two  of  my 
friends  will  call  upon  you." 

"  Oh !  whenever  you  please  !  " 

"  Certainly  ;  but  it  would  gratify  me  to  know  by  what 
right  you  make  yourself  the  judge  of  M.  Lacheneur's  hon- 
our, and  take  upon  yourself  to  defend  what  has  not  been 
attacked.  Who  has  given  you  this  right  ?  " 

From  Martial's  sneering  tone,  Maurice  felt  certain  the 
marquis  had  overheard  at  least  a  part  of  his  conversation 
with  Marie- Anne.  "My  right,"  he  replied,  "is  that  of 
friendship.  If  I  tell  you  that  your  advances  are  unwel- 
come, it  is  because  I  know  that  M.  Lacheneur  will  accept 
nothing  from  you.  No,  nothing,  no  matter  how  you  may 
disguise  the  alms  you  offer  merely  to  appease  your  own 
consciences.  He  will  never  forgive  the  affront  which  is 
his  honour  and  your  shame.  Ah  !  you  thought  to  degrade 
him,  Messieurs  de  Sairmeuse  !  and  you  have  raised  him 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ,  329 

far  above  your  own  mock  grandeur.  He  receive  anything 
from  you !  Go  and  learn  that  your  millions  can  never 
give  you  a  pleasure  equal  to  the  ineffable  joy  he  will  feel 
when  he  sees  you  roll  by  in  your  carriage,  for  he  can  say 
to  himself  :  '  Those  people  owe  everything  to  me  !  " 

Maurice  spoke  with  such  an  intensity  of  feeling  that 
Marie-Anne  could  not  resist  the  impulse  to  press  his 
hand  ;  and  this  gesture  was  his  revenge  on  Martial,  who 
turned  pale  with  passion. 

"But  I  have  still  another  right,"  continued  Maurice. 
"  My  father  yesterday  had  the  honour  of  asking  M.  Lach- 
eneur  for  his  daughter's  hand — " 

"  And  I  refused  it !  "  cried  a  terrible  voice. 

The  marquis,  Marie-Anne,  and  Maurice  turned  with  a 
movement  of  mingled  alarm  and  surprise.  M.  Lacheneur 
was  beside  them,  and  just  behind  him  stood  Chanlouineau, 
surveying  the  group  with  threatening  eyes. 

"  Yes,  I  refused  it,"  resumed  M.  Lacheneur,  "  and  I  do 
not  believe  that  my  daughter  will  marry  any  one  without 
my  consent.  What  did  you  promise  me  this  morning, 
Marie-Anne  ?  And  yet  you  grant  a  rendezvous  to  gallants 
in  the  grove  ?  Go  home  at  once  !  " 

"  But,  father " 

"  Go  home  !  "  he  repeated  angrily.  "  Go  home,  I  com- 
mand you." 

Marie-Anne  did  not  utter  another  word ;  but,  with  a 
look  of  resignation,  turned  to  depart,  though  not  without 
bestowing  on  Maurice  a  saddened  gaze  in  which  he  read 
a  last  farewell. 

As  soon  as  she  was  some  twenty  paces  off,  M.  Lache- 
neur, with  folded  arms  confronted  the  baron's  son.  "  As 
for  you,  M.  D'Escorval,"  said  he,  "  I  hope  that  you'll  no 
longer  prowl  round  about  my  daughter " 

"  I  swear  to  you,  sir " 

"  Oh,  no  oaths,  if  you  please.  It  is  an  evil  action  to 
try  and  turn  a  young  girl  from  her  duty,  which  is  obedience. 
You  have  severed  forever  all  connection  between  your 
family  and  mine." 

Maurice  tried  to  excuse  himself ;  but  M.  Lacheneur  in- 
terrupted him.  "  Enough !  enough!  "  said  he,  "  go  back 
home." 

And  as  the  young  fellow  hesitated,  he  seized  him  bj 
the  collar  and  dragged  him  to  the  little  foot-path,  leading 


33«  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

through  the  grove.  This  was  the  work  of  scarcely  ten 
seconds,  and  yet  Lacheneur  found  time  to  whisper  in 
Maurice's  ear,  in  his  former  friendly  tones :  "  Go,  you 
young  wretch !  do  you  want  to  render  all  my  precautions 
useless  ? " 

He  watched  Maurice  as  the  latter  disappeared,  bewil- 
dered by  the  scene  he  had  witnessed,  and  stupefied  by 
what  he  had  just  heard ;  and  it  was  not  until  the  late  lord 
of  Sairmeuse  saw  that  young  D'Escorval  was  out  of  hear- 
ing that  he  turned  to  Martial.  "  As  I  have  had  the 
honour  of  meeting  you,  M.  le  Marquis,"  said  he,  "  I  deem 
it  my  duty  to  inform  you  that  Chupin  and  his  sons  are 
searching  for  you  everywhere.  It  is  at  the  request  of  the 
duke,  your  father,  who  is  anxious  for  you  to  go  at  once 
to  the  Chateau  de  Courtornieu."  Then  turning  to  Chan- 
louineau,  he  added  :  "  We  will  now  proceed  on  our  way." 

But  Martial  detained  him  with  a  gesture.  "  I  am  much 
surprised  to  hear  that  they  are  seeking  me,"  said  he. 
"  My  father  knows  very  well  where  he  sent  me — I  was 
going  to  your  house,  at  his  request." 

"  To  my  house  ?  " 

"  Yes  to  your  house,  to  express  our  sincere  regret  for 
the  scene  which  took  place  at  the  parsonage  yesterday 
evening."  And  then,  without  waiting  for  any  rejoinder, 
Martial,  with  wonderful  cleverness  and  felicity  of  expres- 
sion, began  to  repeat  to  the  father  the  story  he  had  just 
related  to  the  daughter.  According  to  his  version,  the 
duke  and  himself  were  in  despair.  How  could  M.  Lach- 
eneur suppose  them  guilty  of  such  black  ingratitude  ? 
Why  had  he  retired  so  precipitately  ?  The  Duke  de  Sair- 
meuse held  at  M.  Lacheneur's  disposal  any  amount  which 
it  might  please  him  to  mention — sixty,  a  hundred  thousand 
francs,  even  more. 

But  M.  Lacheneur  did  not  appear  to  be  dazzled  in  the 
least ;  and  when  Martial  had  concluded,  he  replied  re- 
spectfully but  coldly  that  he  would  consider  the  matter. 

This  coldness  amazed  Chanlouineauj  who,  when  the 
marquis  after  many  earnest  protestations  at  last  turned 
his  face  homewards,  naively  declared,  "We  have  mis- 
judged these  people." 

But  M.  Lacheneur  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  And  SQ 
you  are  foolish  enough  to  suppose  that  he  offered  all  that 
money  to  me?  " 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  331 

"  Zounds  !     I  have  ears." 

"  Ah  well !  my  poor  boy,  you  must  not  believe  all  they 
hear  if  you  have.  The  truth  is,  these  large  sums  were 
intended  to  win  my  daughter's  favour.  She  has  taken  the 
marquis's  fancy,  and — he  wishes  to  make  her  his  mis 
tress " 

Chanlouineau  stopped  short,  with  eyes  flashing  and 
hands  clenched.  "  Good  heavens  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  prove 
that  and  I  am  yours,  body  and  soul — to  do  anything  you 
like ! " 

VII. 

"  AH,  what  a  girl  she  is,  this  Marie- Anne  Lacheneur. 
I've  never  met  the  like  of  her  before — what  beauty,  grace, 
and  dignity  combined — "  thus  soliloquised  Martial  when 
after  leaving  the  grove  he  turned  in  the  direction  of  Sair- 
meuse.  At  the  risk  of  losing  his  way  he  took  what  seemed 
to  be  the  shortest  course,  cutting  across  the  fields  and 
leaping  the  ditches  with  the  aid  of  his  gun.  He  found  a 
peculiar  pleasure  in  picturing  Marie-Anne  as  he  had  just 
seen  her.  Now  blushing  and  growing  pale  with  frightened 
modesty;  and  now  raising  her  head  with  haughty  pride 
and  disdain.  Who  would  have  suspected  that  such  girlish 
artlessness  and  such  outward  frigidity  of  manner  concealed 
an  energetic  nature  and  an  impassioned  soul  ?  What  an 
expression  of  love  lighted  up  her  large  black  eyes  when 
she  glanced  at  young  D'Escorval !  Ah,  to  be  looked  at 
thus  only  for  a  moment,  was  felicity  indeed.  No  wonder 
that  Maurice  D'Escorval  was  madly  in  love  with  her. 
Wras  not  he — the  marquis — in  love  with  her  himself  ? 
"  Ah,"  exclaimed  he,  "  Come  what  may  she  shall  be  mine." 

Thus  meditating,  the  Marquis  de  Sairmeuse  turned  to 
the  strategic  side  of  the  question — to  assist  him  in  the 
study  of  which  he  was,  despite  his  recent  manhood,  able 
to  bring  considerable  experience.  His  debut,  he  was 
forced  to  admit,  had  been  neither  fortunate  nor  adroit. 
Compliments  and  offers  of  money  had  alike  been  rejected. 
If  Marie-Anne  had  heard  his  covert  insinuations  with  evr- 
dent  horror,  M.  Lacheneur  had  received  with  even  more 
than  coldness  his  repeated  offers  of  actual  wealth.  More- 
over, he  remembered  Chanlouineau's  terrible  eyes ;  and 
the  way  the  sturdy  rustic  measured  him.  Had  Marie- 


332  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

Anne  made  but  a  sign,  the  young  farmer  would  have 
crushed  him  like  an  egg-shell,  without  the  least  thought 
of  his  noble  ancestors.  Probably  the  stalwart  young 
peasant  was  another  of  Marie-Anne's  visitors,  in  which 
case  there  would  be  three  rivals  for  her  favour.  How- 
ever, the  more  difficult  the  undertaking  seemed,  the  more 
Martial's  passions  were  inflamed.  He  reflected  that  his 
blunders  might  after  all  be  repaired  ;  for  occasions  of  meet- 
ing would  not  be  wanting,  since  he  must  have  frequent 
interviews  with  M.  Lacheneur  in  effecting  a  formal  trans- 
fer of  Sairmeuse.  If  he  could  only  win  the  father  over  to 
his  side.  With  the  daughter  his  course  was  plain. 
Profiting  by  experience  he  must  henceforth  be  as  timid  as 
he  had  hitherto  been  bold,  and  she  would  be  hard  to 
please  if  she  were  not  flattered  by  such  a  triumph  of  her 
beauty.  Young  D'Escorval  remained  to  be  disposed  of. 
True,  the  baron's  son  had  been  rudely  dismissed  by  M. 
Lacheneur,  and  yet  the  latter's  anger  seemed  rather  far- 
fetched to  be  absolutely  real.  Was  this  incident  merely 
a  comedy,  and  if  so  who  had  Lacheneur  wished  to  deceive 
— he — the  marquis — or  Chanlouineau  ?  And  then,  if 
there  had  been  deception,  what  could  have  been  its 
motive  ?  On  the  other  hand  it  was  impossible  to  call 
young  D'Escorval  to  account  for  his  insolence,  for  if  even 
a  pretext  were  found,  Marie-Anne  would  never  forgive  the 
man  who  raised  his  hand  against  one  who,  for  the  time 
being,  was  apparently  her  favoured  lover — so,  hard  as  it 
was,  Martial  must  yet  swallow  Maurice's  affront  in  silence. 
Ah,  he  would  have  given  a  handsome  sum  to  any  one  who 
would  have  devised  a  means  of  sending  the  baron's  son 
away  from  the  neighbourhood. 

Revolving  in  his  mind  these  ideas  and  plans,  the  precise 
consequences  of  which  he  could  neither  calculate  nor  fore 
see,  Martial  was  walking  up  the  avenue  leading  to  the, 
Chateau  de  Sairmeuse  when  he  heard  hurried  footsteps 
behind  him.  He  turned  and  paused  on  seeing  two  men 
running  after  him  and  motioning  him  to  stop.  The  young- 
er was  one  of  father  Chupin's  sons,  and  the  other,  the  old 
rascal  himself. 

The  quondam  poacher  had  been  enrolled  among  the 
servants  charged  with  preparing  Sairmeuse  for  the  duke's 
reception  !  and  he  was  already  doing  everything  in  his 
power  to  make  himself  indispensable.  "  Ah,  M.  le  Mar- 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  333 

quis,"  he  cried, "  we  have  been  searching  for  you  everywhere 
my  son  and  I.     It  was  M.  le  Due " 

"  Very  well,"  said  Martial  dryly.    "  I  am  returning " 

But  Chupin  was  not  over  sensitive  ;  and  despite  his  curt 
reception,  he  ventured  to  follow  the  marquis,  at  a  little  dis- 
tance behind  it  is  true,  but  still  sufficiently  near  to  make 
himself  heard.  He  also  had  his  schemes,  and  it  was  not 
long  before  he  began  to  repeat  all  the  calumnies  that  had 
lately  been  spread  about  the  neighbourhood  in  reference 
to  Lacheneur.  Why  did  he  choose  this  subject  in  pref- 
erence to  any  other  ?  Did  he  suspect  the  young  marquis's 
passion  for  Marie-Anne  ?  Perhaps  so ;  at  all  events  he 
described  Lacheneur  (he  no  longer  styled  him  "  Mon- 
sieur "),  as  a  thorough  rascal.  The  complete  surrender 
of  Sairmeuse,  he  said,  was  only  a  farce,  for  Marie- 
Anne's  father  must  possess  thousands,  and  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  francs,  since  he  was  about  to  mar- 
ry his  daughter.  Any  suspicions  the  old  scoundrel 
may  have  entertained,  became  certainties  when  he  heard 
Martial  eagerly  ask :  "  What !  is  Mademoiselle  Lacheneur 
going  to  be  married  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  who's  the  happy  man  ?  " 

"  Why  Chanlouineau,  the  fellow  the  peasants  wanted  to 
kill  yesterday  on  the  market-place  because  he  was  so  dis- 
respectful to  the  duke.  He  is  an  avaricious  man  ;  and  if 
Marie-Anne  does  not  bring  him  a  good  round  sum  as  a 
dowry,  he  will  never  marry  her,  no  matter  how  beautiful 
she  may  be." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  what  you  say  ? " 

"  Oh,  it's  quite  true.  My  eldest  son  heard  from  Chan- 
louineau  and  from  Lacheneur,  that  the  wedding  would  take 
place  within  a  month."  And  turning  to  his  son,  the  old 
knave  added  :  "  Is  it  not  true,  boy  ? " 

"  Yes,"  promptly  replied  the  youth,  although  he   had 
heard  nothing  of  the  kind. 

Martial  made  no  rejoinder.  Perhaps  he  was  ashamed 
at  having  allowed  himself  to  listen  to  all  this  tittle  tattle ; 
though  on  the  other  hand  he  could  but  feel  grateful  to 
Chupin  for  such  important  information.  Lacheneur's  con- 
duct now  appeared  all  the  more  mysterious.  Why  had  he 
refused  to  give  his  daughter  to  Maurice  d'Escorval ;  why 
did  he  wish  to  marry  her  to  a  peasant  ?  His  conduct 


334  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

must  be  guided  by  some  potent  motive,  which  he — Martial 
— ignored. 

Thus  cogitating,  the  young  marquis  reached  Sairmeuse, 
where  a  strange  scene  awaited  him.  On  the  broad  gravel 
walk  intervening  between  the  peristyle  of  the  chateau  and 
the  lawn,  a  huge  pile  of  furniture,  crockery,  linen,  and 
clothes  might  be  perceived.  Half  a  dozen  lacqueys  were 
running  to  and  fro  executing  the  orders  of  the  Duke  de 
Sairmeuse,  who  stood  on  the  threshold  of  the  building,  and 
a  passer-by  would  have  supposed  that  the  occupants  of  the 
chateau  were  moving.  To  Martial  the  scene  was  inex- 
plicable. Approaching  his  father,  and  saluting  him  re- 
spectfully, he  enquired  what  it  meant. 

The  duke  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh.  "  What,  can't  you 
guess  ?  "  he  replied.  "  Why,  it's  very  simple.  When  the 
lawful  master  returns  home,  he  finds  it  delightful  the  first 
night  to  sleep  under  the  usurper's  counterpane,  but  after- 
wards it  is  not  so  pleasant.  Everything  here  reminds  me 
too  forcibly  of  M.  Lacheneur.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  am 
in  his  house,  and  the  thought  is  unendurable.  So  I  have 
had  them  collect  everything  belonging  to  him  and  to  his 
daughter — everything  in  fact  which  did  not  belong  to  the 
chateau  in  former  years,  and  the  servants  will  put  all  these 
goods  and  chattels  into  a  cart  and  carry  them  to  him." 

The  young  marquis  gave  fervent  thanks  to  heaven  that 
he  had  arrived  before  it  was  too  late.  Had  his  father's 
project  been  executed,  he  might  have  bid  farewell  to  all 
his  hopes  for  ever.  "  You  don't  surely  mean  to  do  this, 
M.  le  Due  ? "  he  said  earnestly. 

"  And  why  not,  pray  ?  Who  can  prevent  me  from  doing 
it?" 

"  No  one,  most  assuredly.  But  you  yourself  will  decide 
on  reflection,  that  a  man  who  has  not  conducted  himseU 
too  badly,  has  at  least  a  right  to  some  consideration." 

The  duke  seemed  greatly  astonished.  "  Consideration  !' 
he  exclaimed.  "  This  rascal  has  a  right  to  some  consider- 
ation !  You  must  be  joking  surely.  What  !  I  give  him — 
that  is  to  say — you  give  him  a  hundred  thousand  francs,  and 
that  doesn't  satisfy  him  !  He  is  entitled  to  consideration  \ 
You,  who  are  after  the  daughter,  may  treat  him  to  as  much 
consideration  as  you  like,  but  /shall  do  as  I  please  !  " 

"  You  have  a  perfect  right  to  do  so,  M.  le  Due," 
replied  Martial,  "  but  I  would  respectfully  observe,  that 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  335 

if  I  were  in  your  place  I  should  think  twice  before 
acting.  Lacheneur  has  surrendered  Sairmeuse  ;  that  is 
all  very  well ;  but  how  can  you  authenticate  your  claim 
to  the  property  ?  Suppose  you  imprudently  irritated  him. 
What  would  you  do  if  he  changed  his  mind  ?  What  would 
become  of  your  right  to  the  estate  ? " 

M.  Sairmeuse  turned  livid.  "  Zounds  !  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  I  had  not  thought  of  that.  Here,  you  fellows,  take  all 
these  things  indoors  again,  and  quickly !  "  And  as  the 
lacqueys  prepared  to  obey  his  orders,  "  Now,"  he  remarked, 
"  let  us  hasten  to  Courtornieu.  They  have  already  sent 
for  us  twice.  It  must  be  business  of  the  utmost  import- 
ance which  demands  our  attention." 

The  Chateau  de  Courtornieu  is,  next  to  that  of 
Sairmeuse,  the  most  magnificent  seignorial  seat  in  the 
district  of  Montaignac.  When  the  carriage  conveying 
Martial  and  his  father  turned  from  the  public  highway 
into  the  long  narrow  rough  by-road  leading  to  this  historic 
mansion,  the  jolting  aroused  the  duke  from  a  profound 
reverie  into  which  he  had  fallen  on  leaving  Sairmeuse. 

The  marquis  thought  that  he  had  caused  this  unusual 
fit  of  abstraction.  "  It  is  the  result  of  my  adroit  man- 
oeuvre," he  said  to  himself,  not  without  secret  satisfaction. 
"Until  the  restitution  of  Sairmeuse  is  legalized,  I  can 
make  my  father  do  anything  I  wish ;  yes,  anything.  And 
if  it  is  necessary,  he  will  even  invite  Lacheneur  and 
Marie-Anne  to  his  table." 

Martial  was  mistaken,  however.  The  duke  had  already 
forgotten  the  matter,  for  his  most  vivid  impressions  were 
more  fleeting  than  the  briefest  summer  shower.  After 
suddenly  lowering  the  glass  window  in  front  of  the  car- 
riage, and  ordering  the  coachman  to  walk  his  horses  up 
the  road,  he  turned  to  his  son  and  remarked,  "  Let  us 
have  a  few  minutes'  chat.  Are  you  really  in  love  with 
that  girl  Lacheneur  ? " 

Martial  could  not  repress  a  start.  "Oh!  in  love," 
said  he,  lightly,  "  that  would  perhaps  be  saying  too 
much.  Let  me  say  she  has  taken  my  fancy,  that  will  be 
sufficient." 

The  duke  glanced  at  his  son  with  a  bantering  air. 
"  Really,  you  delight  me  ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  feared 
that  this  love  affair  might  derange,  at  least  for  the  mo« 


33<J  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

ment,  certain  plans  that  I  have  formed — for  I  have 
formed  certain  plans  for  you." 

"  The  deuce  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  my  plans,  and  I  will  communicate  them 
to  you  later  in  detail.  I  will  content  myself  to-day  by 
recommending  you  to  study  Mademoiselle  Blanche  de 
Courtornieu." 

Martial  made  no  reply.  This  recommendation  was  in- 
deed superfluous.  If  Mademoiselle  Lacheneur  had  made 
him  forget  momentarily  Mademoiselle  de  Courtornieu 
that  morning,  the  remembrance  of  Marie-Anne  was  now 
effaced  by  the  radiant  image  of  Blanche. 

"  Before  discussing  the  daughter,"  resumed  the  duke, 
"let  us  speak  of  the  father.  He  is  one  of  my  best 
friends ;  and  I  know  him  thouroughly.  You  have  heard 
men  reproach  me  for  what  they  style  my  prejudices ; 
haven't  you  ?  Well,  in  comparison  with  the  Marquis  de 
Courtornieu,  I  am  only  a  mere  Jacobin." 

"  Oh  !  father  !  " 

"  Really,  such  is  the  case.  If  I  am  behind  the  age  in 
which  I  live,  he  belongs  to  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.  Only — 
for  there  is  an  only — the  principles  which  I  openly  pro- 
fess, he  keeps  locked  up  in  his  snuff-box — and  trust  him 
for  not  forgetting  to  open  it  at  the  proper  moment.  He 
has  suffered  cruelly  for  his  opinions,  in  the  sense  of 
having  so  often  been  obliged  to  conceal  them.  He  con- 
cealed them,  first  under  the  Consulate,  when  he  returned 
from  exile.  He  dissimulated  them  even  more  courageous- 
ly under  the  Empire — for  he  played  the  part  of  a 
chamberlain  to  Bonaparte,  this  dear  marquis.  But,  hush  ! 
don't  remind  him  of  that  proof  of  heroism  ;  he  has  bitterly 
deplored  it  since  the  battle  of  Lutzen." 

This  was  the  tone  in  which  M.  de  Sairmeuse  was  ac- 
customed to  speak  of  his  best  friends.  "  The  history  of 
the  marquis's  fortune,"  he  continued,  "  is  the  history  of 
his  marriages — I  say  marriages,  because  he  has  married  a 
number  of  times,  and  always  advantageously.  Yes,  in  a 
period  of  fifteen  years  he  has  had  the  misfortune  to  lose 
three  wives,  each  richer  than  the  other.  His  daughter's 
mother  was  his  third  and  last  wife,  a  Cisse  Blossac — who 
died  in  1809.  He  comforted  himself  after  each  bereave- 
ment by  purchasing  a  quantity  of  lands  or  bonds.  So 
that  now  he  is  as  rich  as  you  are,  and  his  influence  is 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  337 

powerful  and  wide-spread.  I  forgot  one  detail,  hovrever. 
He  believes,  they  tell  me,  in  the  growing  power  of  the 
clergy,  and  has  become  very  devout." 

The  duke  checked  himself,  for  the  carriage  had  en- 
tered the  marquis's  grounds,  and  was  now  approaching 
the  grand  entrance  of  the  Chateau  de  Courtornieu.  As 
the  wheels  grated  over  the  gravel.  M.  de  Courtornieu 
himself  appeared  on  the  threshold  of  the  mansion  and 
hastily  descended  the  steps  to  receive  his  guests  in  person. 
This  was  a  flattering  distinction,  which  he  seldom  lavished 
upon  his  visitors.  The  marquis  was  long  rather  than  tall, 
and  very  solemn  in  deportment.  His  angular  form  was 
surmounted  by  a  remarkably  small  head  (a  distinctive  char- 
acteristic of  his  race),  covered  with  thin  glossy  black  hair, 
and  lighted  by  cold,  round  black  eyes.  The  pride  that 
becomes  a  nobleman,  and  the  humility  that  befits  a 
Christian,  were  continually  at  war  with  each  other  in  his 
countenance.  He  pressed  M.  de  Sairmeuse's  hands  with 
a  great  show  of  friendship,  and  overwhelmed  them  with 
compliments  expressed  in  a  thin  nasal  voice,  which, 
coming  from  his  elongated  frame,  was  as  astonishing  as 
would  be  the  sound  of  a  flute  issuing  from  the  pipes  of  an 
orphicleide. 

"  At  last  you  have  come,"  he  said,  "  we  were  waiting 
for  you  before  beginning  to  deliberate  on  a  very  grave 
and  delicate  matter.  We  are  thinking  of  addressing  a 
petition  to  his  majesty.  The  nobility,  who  have  suffered 
so  much  during  the  Revolution,  have  a  right  to  expect 
ample  compensation.  Our  neighbours,  to  the  number  of 
sixteen,  are  now  assembled  in  my  cabinet,  transformed 
for  the  time  into  a  council  chamber." 

Martial  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  all  the  ridiculous 
and  tiresome  conversation  he  would  probably  be  obliged 
to  listen  to ;  and  his  father's  recommendation  occurred  to 
him.  "  Shall  we  not  have  the  honour  of  paying  our  re- 
spects to  Mademoiselle  de  Courtornieu  !  "  he  asked. 

"  My  daughter  must  be  in  the  drawing-room  with  our 
cousin,"  replied  the  marquis  in  an  indifferent  tone,  "  at 
least,  if  she  is  not  in  the  garden." 

This  might  be  construed  as,  "  Go,  and  look  for  her  if 
you  choose."  At  any  rate  so  Martial  understood  the 
marquis ;  and  accordingly  when  the  hall  was  reached,  he 
allowed  his  father  and  M.  de  Courtornieu  to  go  upstairs 


338  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

without  him.  At  his  request  a  servant  opened  the  draw- 
ing-room door,  but  he  found  that  apartment  empty.  He 
then  turned  into  the  garden,  and  after  a  fruitless  search 
was  retracing  his  steps  towards  the  house,  when,  in  the 
recesses  of  a  shady  bower,  he  espied  the  flowing  folds  of 
a  white  silk  dress.  Surmising  that  the  wearer  of  this 
dainty  toilet  was  Mademoiselle  de  Courtornieu,  he  ad- 
vanced towards  the  bower,  and  his  heart  throbbed 
quicker  when  he  perceived  that  he  was  right.  Made- 
moiselle Blanche  was  seated  on  a  garden  bench  beside  an 
elderly  lady  to  whom  she  was  reading  a  letter  in  a  low 
voice.  She  was  evidently  greatly  pre-occupied,  since  she 
did  not  hear  Martial's  approach.  Pausing  at  about  a 
dozen  paces  from  the  bower  the  susceptible  young  mar- 
quis lingered  blissfully  contemplating  the  charming  tab- 
leau presented  to  his  gaze. 

Blanche  de  Courtornieu  was  not  absolutely  beautiful ; 
but  she  was  as  pretty,  as  piquante,  and  as  dainty  as  heart 
could  desire.  Bewitching  indeed  were  her  large  velvety 
blue  eyes,  her  dimpled  chin,  and  fresh  pouting  lips.  She 
was  a  blonde — but  one  of  those  dazzling,  radiant  blondes 
found  only  in  the  countries  of  the  sun — and  her  hair, 
drawn  high  upon  the  top  of  her  head,  escaped  on  all  sides 
in  a  profusion  of  glittering  ringlets  which  seemed  almost  to 
sparkle  in  the  play  of  the  light  breeze.  One  might,  per- 
haps, have  wished  her  a  trifle  taller.  But  she  had  the 
winning  charm  of  all  delicately  formed  women  ;  and  her 
figure  was  deliciously  symmetrical  and  admirably  propor- 
tioned. 

The  old  axiom  that  appearances  are  often  deceitful  could 
not,  however,  have  been  better  exemplified  than  in  the 
case  of  this  apparently  innocent  artless  girl.  The  can- 
dour sparkling  in  her  eyes  concealed  a  parched,  hollow 
soul,  worthy  of  an  experienced  woman  of  the  world,  or  of 
some  old  courtier.  Being  the  only  daughter  of  a  million- 
naire  grand-seigneur  she  had  been  so  petted  by  all  who 
approached  her,  so  bespattered  with  adulation  that  every 
good  quality  she  might  have  possessed  had  been  blighted 
in  the  bud  by  the  poisonous  breath  of  flattery.  She  was 
only  nineteen ;  and  still  it  was  impossible  for  any  one  to 
have  been  more  susceptible  to  the  charms  of  wealth  and 
ambition.  She  dreamed  of  a  position  at  court  as  most 
girls  dream  of  a  lover.  If  she  had  deigned  to  notice 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  339 

Martial — and  she  had  remarked  him — it  was  only  because 
her  father  had  told  her  that  this  young  man  might  raise 
his  wife  to  the  highest  sphere  of  power — a  statement  she 
had  greeted  with  a  "  very  well,  we  will  see  !  "  that  would 
have  changed  an  enamoured  suitor's  love  into  disgust. 

After  Martial  had  loitered  a  few  minutes  in  contempla- 
tion he  made  up  his  mind  to  advance,  and  Mademoiselle 
Blanche,  on  seeing  him,  sprang  up  with  a  pretty  affecta- 
tion of  intense  timidity.  Bowing  low  before  her,  the 
young  marquis  exclaimed  in  a  tone  of  profound  deference  : 
"  M.  de  Courtornieu,  mademoiselle,  was  so  kind  as  to  tell 
me  where  I  might  have  the  honour  of  finding  you.  I  had 
not  courage  enough  to  brave  those  formidable  discussions 

indoors ;  but "  He  paused,  and  pointing  to  the  letter 

the  young  girl  held  in  her  hand,  he  added,  "  But  I  fear 
that  I  am  interrupting  you." 

"  Oh  !  not  in  the  least,  Monsieur  le  Marquis,  although 
this  letter  which  I  have  just  been  reading  has,  I  confess, 
deeply  interested  me.  It  was  writen  by  a  poor  child  in 
whom  I  have  taken  a  great  interest — whom  I  have  sent  for 
at  times  when  I  felt  lonely — Marie-Anne  Lacheneur." 

Accustomed  from  his  infancy  to  the  hypocrisy  of  draw- 
ing-rooms, the  young  marquis  had  taught  his  face  not 
to  betray  his  feelings.  He  could  have  laughed  gaily  £with 
anguish  at  his  heart ;  he  could  have  preserved  the 
sternest  gravity  when  inwardly  convulsed  with  merriment. 
And  yet,  the  mention  of  Marie-Anne's  name  coming  from 
Mademoiselle  de  Courtornieu,  caused  his  glance  to  waver. 
The  thought  that  they  knew  each  other  flashed  through 
his  brain,  and  then  with  equal  rapidity  he  recovered  his 
self-possession.  But  Mademoiselle  de  Courtornieu  had 
perceived  his  momentary  agitation.  "  What  can  it  mean  ?  " 
she  wondered,  much  disturbed.  Still,  it  was  with  a  per- 
fect assumption  of  innocence  that  she  continued  :  "  In  fact 
you  must  have  seen  her,  this  poor  Marie-Anne,  M.  le 
Marquis,  since  her  father  was  the  guardian  of  Sairmeuse  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  seen  her,  mademoiselle,"  replied  Martial, 
quietly. 

"  Is  she  not  remarkably  beautiful  ?  Her  beauty  is  of 
an  unusual  type,  it  quite  takes  one  by  surprise." 

A  fool  would  have  protested.  The  marquis  was  not 
guilty  of  such  folly.  "  Yes,  she  is  very  beautiful,"  said  he. 

Blanche  de  Courtornieu   was  slightly  disconcerted  by 


340  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

this  apparent  frankness  ;  and  it  was  with  an  air  of  hypo- 
critical compassion  that  she  murmured  :  "  Poor  girl ! 
What  will  become  of  her  ?  Here  is  her  father  reduced  to 
digging  the  ground." 

"  Oh  !  you  exaggerate,  mademoiselle  ;  my  father  will 
always  preserve  Lacheneur  from  anything  of  that  kind." 

"  Of  course — I  might  have  known  that — but  where  will 
he  find  a  husband  for  Marie- Anne  ? " 

"  One  has  been  found  already.  I  understand  that  she  is 
to  marry  a  farmer  in  the  neighbourhood,  who  has  some 
little  property — a  young  fellow  named  Chanlouineau." 

Mademoiselle  le  Courtornieu  with  all  her  apparent  art' 
lessness  was  more  cunning  than  the  maiquis.  She  had 
satisfied  herself  that  she  had  just  grounds  for  her  suspi- 
cions ;  and  she  experienced  a  certain  auger  on  finding 
him  so  well  informed  in  regard  to  everything  that  con- 
cerned Mademoiselle  Lacheneur.  "  And  do  you  fancy 
this  is  the  husband  she  dreamed  of  ? "  she  enquired  still 
in  a  tone  of  affected  benevolence.  "  Ah,  well  !  God  grant 
that  she  may  be  happy ;  for  we  were  very  fond  of  her, 
very — were  we  not,  Aunt  Medea  ? " 

"  Yes,  very,"  replied  Aunt  Medea,  who  was  the  elderly 
lady  seated  on  the  bench  beside  the  Courtornieu  heiress. 
She  was  a  poor  relation  whom  M.  de  Courtornieu  had 
installed  at  the  chateau  as  his  daughter's  chaperone,  and 
she  earned  her  daily  bread  by  playing  the  part  of  echo  to 
the  authoritative  Blanche. 

"  It  grieves  me  to  see  these  friendly  relations,  which  were 
so  dear  to  me,  broken  off,"  resumed  Mademoiselle  de 
Courtornieu.  "  But  listen  to  what  Marie-Anne  writes." 
So  saying  she  produced  Mademoiselle  Lacheneur's 
letter  and  read  as  follows :  "  My  dear  Blanche — You 
know  that  the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse  has  returned.  The 
news  fell  upon  us  like  a  thunderbolt.  My  father  and 
I  had  grown  too  accustomed  to  consider  the  deposit 
entrusted  to  our  fidelity,  as  our  own  property,  and  now 
we  have  been  punished  for  doing  so.  At  least  we  have 
done  our  duty,  and  now  everything  is  finished.  She 
whom  you  have  called  your  friend,  will  henceforth  be  only 
a  poor  peasant  girl,  as  her  mother  was  before  her." 

The  most  attentive  observer  would  have  supposed  that 
Mademoiselle  Blanche  was  experiencing  the  keenest 
emotion.  One  would  have  sworn  that  it  was  only  by  in- 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  341 

tense  effort  that  she  succeeded  in  restraining  her  tears — 
that  they  were  even  trembling  beneath  the  long  lashes 
shading  her  eyes.  In  point  of  fact,  however,  she  was  try- 
ing to  discover  some  indication  of  Martial's  feelings. 
But  now  he  was  on  his  guard,  and  he  listened  to  the 
perusal  of  the  note  with  an  imperturbable  air.  She  con- 
tinued: 

"  I  should  not  be  telling  the  truth  if  I  said  that  I  have 
not  suffered  on  account  of  this  sudden  change.  But  I 
have  courage  left,  and  I  shall  learn  how  to  submit.  I 
shall,  I  hope,  also  have  strength  to  forget,  for  I  must  for- 
get !  The  remembrances  of  past  happiness  would  make 
my  present  misery  intolerable." 

Mademoiselle  de  Courtornieu  suddenly  folded  up  the 
letter.  "  Can  you  understand  such  pride  as  that  ?  "  said 
she.  "  And  they  accuse  us  daughters  of  the  nobility  of 
being  proud !  " 

Martial  made  no  response.  He  felt  that  his  trembling 
voice  would  betray  him.  Great  as  was  the  emotion  he 
concealed,  it  would  have  been  all  the  greater  if  he  had 
been  allowed  to  read  the  concluding  lines  : — 

"  One  must  live,  my  dear  Blanche,"  added  Marie-Anne, 
"  and  I  feel  no  false  shame  in  asking  you  to  aid  me.  I 
sew  very  nicely,  as  you  know,  and  I  could  earn  my  liveli- 
hood by  embroidery  if  I  knew  more  people.  I  will  call 
to-day  at  Courtornieu  to  ask  you  to  give  me  a  list  of  ladies 
to  whom  I  can  present  myself  on  your  recommendation." 

But  Mademoiselle  de  Courtornieu  had  taken  good  care 
not  to  allude  to  this  touching  request.  She  had  read  the 
commencement  of  the  letter  to  Martial  as  a  test,  and  plainly 
perceived  that  if  her  new-born  suspicions  were  correct,  at 
all  events  the  young  marquis  was  resolved  not  to  betray 
himself  any  further.  Rising  from  the  bench,  she  now  ac- 
cepted his  arm  to  return  to  the  house.  She  seemed  to  have 
forgotten  her  friend,  and  soon  engaged  in  a  gay  flirtation, 
They  were  sauntering  along  toward  the  chateau,  when  the 
sound  of  voices  engaged  in  animated  debate  reached  their 
ears.  The  council  convened  in  M.  de  Courtornieu's  cab- 
inet was  angrily  discussing  the  proposed  address  to  the 
king. 

Mademoiselle  Blanche  paused.  "  I  am  trespassing  upon 
your  kindness,  M.  le  Marquis,"  she  said.  "  I  am  boring 


342  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

you  with  my  silly  chatter  when  you  would  undoubtedly 
prefer  to  be  up  stairs." 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Martial  laughing.  "  What 
should  I  do  there  ?  Men  of  action  only  intervene  when 
the  orators  have  finished." 

He  spoke  so  energetically,  in  spite  of  his  jesting  tone, 
that  Mademoiselle  de  Courtornieu  was  fascinated.  She 
saw  before  her,  she  believed,  a  man  who,  as  her  father  had 
said,  would  rise  to  the  highest  position  in  the  political 
world.  Unfortunately,  her  admiration  was  disturbed  by  a 
ring  at  the  great  bell  which  always  announced  visitors. 
She  faltered,  let  go  her  hold  on  Martial's  arm,  and  ex- 
claimed in  an  earnest  tone.  "  Ah,  no  matter.  I  wish  very 
much  to  know  what  is  going  on  up  stairs.  If  I  ask  my 
father  he  will  laugh  at  my  curiosity,  while  you,  if  you  are 
present  at  the  conference,  can  tell  me  everything." 

A  wish  thus  expressed  was  a  command.  Martial  bowed 
and  withdrew.  "  She  dismisses  me,"  he  said  to  himself  as 
he  mounted  the  staircase,  "  nothing  could  be  more  evi- 
dent ;  and  that  without  much  ceremony.  Why  the  deuce 
did  she  want  to  get  rid  of  me  ?  " 

Why  ?  Because  that  single  peal  of  the  bell  announced 
a  visitor  to  her ;  because  she  was  expecting  a  visit  from 
the  former  friend  whose  letter  she  had  just  been  reading  ; 
and  because  she  wished  at  any  cost  to  prevent  a  meeting 
between  Martial  and  Marie-Anne.  She  did  not  love  the 
young  marquis,  and  yet  an  agony  of  jealousy  was  torturing 
her.  Such  was  the  nature  of  Mademoiselle  Blanche. 

Her  presentiments  were  realized.  It  was  indeed  Mad- 
emoiselle Lacheneur  whom  she  found  awaiting  her  in  the 
drawing-room.  Marie-Anne  was  paler  than  usual ;  but 
nothing  in  her  manner  betrayed  the  frightful  anguish  she 
had  suffered  during  the  past  few  days.  In  asking  her 
former  friend  for  a  list  of  ladies  to  whom  she  could  recom- 
mend her,  she  spoke  as  calmly  and  as  quietly  as  in  former 
days  when  she  had  ofttimes  called  at  Courtornieu  and  in- 
vited Blanche  to  spend  a  day  at  Sairmeuse.  Then  the 
two  girls  embraced  each  other,  their  roles  were  reversed. 
It  was  Marie-Anne  who  had  been  crushed  by  misfortune  ; 
but  it  was  Blanche  who  wept.  However,  while  writing 
down  the  names  of  the  persons  in  the  neighbourhood  with 
whom  she  was  acquainted,  Mademoiselle  de  Courtornieu 
did  not  neglect  this  favorable  opportunity  for  verifying  the 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  343 

suspicions  which  Martial's  momentary  agitation  had  roused 
in  her  breast. 

"  It  is  inconceivable,"  she  remarked  to  her  friend,  "  that 
the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse  should  allow  you  to  be  reduced  to 
such  an  extremity." 

Marie-Anne's  nature  was  so  loyal,  that  although  the 
remark  was  levelled  against  a  man,  who  had  treated  her 
father  most  cruelly,  she  at  once  resented  its  injustice. 
"  The  duke  is  not  to  blame,"  she  replied  gently,  "  he 
offered  us  a  very  considerable  sum,  this  morning,  through 
his  son." 

Mademoiselle  Blanche  started  as  if  a  viper  had  stung 
her.  "  So  you  have  seen  the  Marquis,  Marie- Anne  ? "  she 
said. 

"Yes." 

"  Has  he  been  to  your  house  ?  " 

"  He  was  going  there,  when  he  met  me  in  the  grove 
near  La  Reche."  As  Marie-Anne  spoke  the  recollection 
of  Martial's  impertinent  gallantry  brought  a  blush  to  her 
cheeks. 

Blanche,  despite  her  precocious  experience,  misunder- 
stood the  cause  of  her  friend's  confusion.  Still  she  was 
an  adept  at  dissimulation,  and  she  took  leave  of  Marie- 
Anne  with  every  outward  sign  of  sincere  affection.  In 
reality,  however,  she  was  well  nigh  suffocating  with  rage. 
"  What !  "  she  thought,  "  they  have  met  but  once,  and  yet 
they  are  so  strongly  impressed  with  one  another !  Do  they 
love  each  other  already  ?  " 


VIII. 

BLANCHE  DE  COURTORNIEU  would  probably  have  been 
extremely  astonished  if  Martial  had  faithfully  reported  to 
her  everything  he  heard  in  her  father's  cabinet.  He  was 
himself  passably  amazed  by  the  opinions  he  heard  ex- 
pressed and  the  projects  he  heard  enunciated.  Above  all, 
he  was  really  disgusted  with  the  ridiculous  greed  displayed 
by  M.  de  Courtornieu's  noble  guests.  Decorations,  for- 
tune, honors,  power — they  desired  everything.  They  were 
satisfied  that  their  sentimental  devotion  to  the  throne 
deserved  the  most  munificent  rewards  ;  and  it  was  only 
the  most  modest  among  them,  who  declared  that  he  would 


344  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

rest  content  with  the  epaulettes  of  lieutenant-general. 
Recrimination,  rancour,  and  reproach  were  persistently 
indulged  in,  and  the  Marquis  de  Courtornieu,  who  acted 
as  president  of  the  council,  soon  grew  exhausted  with  ex- 
claiming :  "  Be  calm,  gentlemen,  be  calm  !  A  little  mod- 
eration, if  you  please  !  " 

"  All  these  men  are  mad,"  thought  Martial,  with  diffi- 
culty restraining  an  intense  desire  to  laugh ;  "  They  are 
insane  enough  to  be  placed  in  an  asylum." 

It  so  happened  that  he  was  not  obliged  to  render  a  re- 
port of  what  transpired,  for  soon  after  his  arrival  in  the 
cabinet  the  deliberations  were  fortunately  interrupted  by  a 
summons  to  dinner,  and  when  he  rejoined  Blanche,  she 
had  quite  forgotten  to  questfon  him  about  the  doings  of 
the  council.  In  fact,  what  were  these  people's  hopes  and 
plans  to  her  ?  These  greedy  nobles  were  all  below  her 
father  in  rank,  and  most  of  them  were  much  less  rich  than 
he.  Moreover,  a  matter  of  personal  interest  had  engaged 
all  her  attention.  She  had  been  absorbed  in  thought, 
since  Marie-Anne's  departure — in  thought  of  Martial,  with 
whose  mind  and  person  she  was  decidedly  pleased.  He 
possessed  all  the  qualifications  an  ambitious  woman  could 
desire  in  a  husband — and  she  had  decided  that  she  would 
marry  him.  She  would  most  likely  not  have  arrived  at 
this  conclusion  so  quickly,  had  it  not  been  for  the  feeling 
of  jealousy,  aroused  in  her  mind  by  the  belief  that  he  was 
coveted  by  another  woman,  for  the  heart  had  nothing  to 
do  with  her  new-born  desire,  which  was  one  of  those  coun- 
terfeit brain  passions  so  often  mistaken  for  real  love.  As 
for  the  outcome  of  her  fancy,  she  never  once  thought  that 
she  might  possibly  reap  defeat  in  lieu  of  victory  :  for  over 
and  over  again  had  her  flatterers  told  her  that  the  man  she 
chose  must  esteem  himself  fortunate  above  all  others.  She 
had  seen  her  father  besieged  by  so  many  suitors  for  her 
hand ;  and,  besides,  her  mirror  told  her  that  she  was  as 
pretty — nay,  far  prettier  than  Marie-Anne  ;  whilst  she  pos- 
sessed other  advantages  which  her  rival  could  lay  no  claim 
to  ;  birth,  wit,  and  a  genius  for  coquetry ! 

The  result  of  Mademoiselle  de  Courtornieu's  meditations 
was  that  during  dinner  she  exercised  all  her  powers  of  fas- 
cination upon  the  young  marquis.  She  was  so  evidently  de- 
sirous of  pleasing  him  that  several  of  the  guests  remarked 
it.  Some  were  even  shocked  by  her  forwardness.  But 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  34; 

Blanche  de  Courtornieu  could  do  as  she  chose,  as  she  her- 
self was  well  aware.  Was  she  not  the  richest  heiress  for 
miles  and  miles  around  ?  No  slander  can  tarnish  the  bril- 
liancy of  such  a  fortune  as  she  would  one  day  possess. 

Martial  yielded  unresistingly  to  the  charm  of  his  position. 
How  could  he  suspect  unworthy  motives  in  a  girl  whose 
eyes  had  such  an  expression  of  virgin  purity,  and  whose 
laugh  bespoke  the  happy  gaiety  of  innocent  maidenhood. 
Involuntarily  he  compared  the  seemingly  light-hearted 
Blanche  with  the  grave  and  thoughtful  Marie-Anne,  and 
his  imagination  turned  from  one  to  the  other,  inflamed  by 
the  strangeness  of  the  contrast.  He  occupied  a  seat  beside 
Mademoiselle  de  Courtornieu  at  table,  and  they  chatted 
gaily,  amusing  themselves  at  the  expense  of  the  other 
guests,  who  were  again  conversing  upon  political  matters, 
and  whose  royalist  enthusiasm  waxed  warmer  and  warmer 
as  the  repast  proceeded.  Champagne  was  served  with  the 
dessert ;  and  the  company  drank  to  the  allies  by  the  force 
of  whose  victorious  bayonets  the  king  had  managed  to  re- 
turn to  Paris  ;  they  drank  to  the  English,  to  the  Prussians, 
and  to  the  Russians,  whose  horses  were  trampling  the  har- 
vests of  France  under  foot. 

The  name  of  D'Escorval  heard  above  the  clink  of  the 
glasses,  suddenly  roused  Martial  from  his  dream  of  en- 
chantment. An  old  nobleman  had  just  risen,  and  propos- 
ed that  active  measures  should  be  taken  to  rid  the  neigh- 
oourhood  of  the  Baron  d'Escorval.  "  Such  a  man's  pres- 
ence dishonours  our  province,"  said  he,  "  he  is  a  frantic 
Jacobin,  and  Fouche  has  him  on  the  list  of  suspected  per- 
sons, a  plain  proof  that  he  is  a  dangerous  character. 
Even  now  he  is  under  the  surveillance  of  the  police." 

Had  M.  d'Escorval  heard  these  remarks,  and  had  he 
seen  the  savage  glances  which  the  listeners  exchanged, 
he  would  certainly  have  felt  anxious  for  his  safety.  Still, 
if  the  old  nobleman's  proposal  met  with  approving  looks, 
the  various  guests  plainly  hesitated  about  giving  it  their 
formal  sanction.  Martial's  easy  gaiety  of  a  moment  before 
had  now  quite  vanished,  and  he  was  as  pale  as  death  A 
terrible  struggle  was  going  on  in  his  mind — a  conflict  be- 
tween honour  and  desire.  A  few  hours  previously  he  had 
longed  for  a  means  to  get  rid  of  Maurice,  and  now  the  op- 
portunity presented  itself.  It  was  impossible  to  imagine  a 
better  one.  If  the  old  nobleman's  proposals  were  adopted, 


346  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

the  Baron  d'Escorval  and  his  family  would  be  forced  to 
leave  France  forever ! 

Martial  noted  the  hesitation  of  the  company,  and  felt 
that  a  word  from  him  would  probably  decide  the  matter. 
What  should  he  do — should  he  second  the  suggestion  or 
oppose  it  ?  He  did  not  reflect  for  long.  The  voice  of  hon- 
our imperatively  commanded  him  to  do  his  duty.  Rising 
from  his  seat  he  declared  that  the  suggestion  was  most  im- 
politic. "  M.  d'Escorval,"  he  said,  "  is  one  of  those  men 
whose  spirit  of  honesty  and  justice  has  made  them  rightly 
popular.  He  fully  deserves  the  general  esteem  in  which 
he  is  held  in  the  district.  And  by  attacking  him  you 
would  make  many  malcontents  among  those  whose  supporl 
it  is  our  duty  to  obtain  in  the  interests  of  the  monarchy." 

The  young  marquis's  cold  and  haughty  manner,  his  fevt 
but,  incisive  words  decided  the  question.  "  We  had  bettei 
leave  the  baron  alone.  It  would  be  a  great  mistake  to  at 
tack  him,"  such  were  the  comments  exchanged  on  ever) 
side. 

When  Martial  sat  down  again  Blanche  de  Courtornieu 
leant  towards  him.  "  You  have  acted  rightly,"  she  mur 
mured.  "  I  see  you  know  how  to  defend  your  friends." 
"  M.  d'Escorval  is  not  my  friend,"  replied  Martial,  in  a 
voice  which  revealed  the  struggle  through  which  he  had 
passed.  "The  injustice  of  the  proposal  incensed  me,  that 
is  all." 

Mademoiselle  de  Courtornieu  was  not  to  be  deceived  by 
an  explanation  like  this.  Still,  feigning  to  accept  it,  she 
quietly  added :  "  Then  your  conduct  is  all  the  more  admir- 
able M.  le  Marquis." 

Such  was  not  the  opinion  of  the  Duke  de  Sairmeuse, 
however.  On  returning  to  the  chateau  some  hours  later, 
he  reproached  his  son  for  his  intervention.  "  Why  the 
deuce  did  you  meddle  with  the  matter  ?  "  he  inquired.  "  I 
should  not  have  liked  to  take  upon  myself  the  odium  of  the 
proposition,  but  since  it  had  been  made — " 

"I  was  anxious  to  prevent  such  an  act  of  useless 
folly ! " 

"  Useless  folly  !  Zounds !  marquis,  you  carry  matters 
with  a  high  hand.  Do  you  think  that  cursed  baron  adores 
you  ?  What  would  you  say  if  you  heard  that  he  was  con- 
spiring against  us  ? " 

"  I  should  answer  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders." 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  347 

"  You  would !  Very  well  then,  just  do  me  the  favour  to 
question  Chupin." 

The  Duke  de  Sairmeuse  had  only  been  a  fortnight  in 
France  ;  he  had  scarcely  shaken  the  dust  of  exile  from  his 
feet,  and  already  his  imagination  saw  enemies  on  every 
side.  He  had  slept  but  two  nights  in  the  chateau  of  his 
forefathers,  and  yet  he  accepted  the  venomous  reports 
which  Chupin  poured  into  his  ears  as  unhesitatingly  as  if 
they  had  been  gospel  truth.  The  suspicions  which  he  tried 
to  instil  into  Martial's  mind  were,  however,  cruelly 
unjust 

At  the  very  moment  when  the  duke  accused  M.  d'Escor- 
val of  conspiring  against  the  house  of  Sairmeuse,  the  bar- 
on was  weeping  at  the  bedside  of  his  son,  whose  life  he 
feared  for.  Maurice  was  indeed  dangerously  ill.  Mental 
agony  had  overcome  him  and  with  his  nervous  organism 
the  circumstance  was  not  surprising.  After  leaving  the 
grove  near  La  Reche  in  obedience  with  M.  Lacheneur's 
orders,  he  had  mechanically  returned  home,  a  hundred 
conflicting  thoughts  battling  in  his  mind.  What  did  it  all 
mean  ?  The  marquis's  insults,  Lacheneur's  feigned  anger, 
Marie-Anne's  obstinacy — all  the  incidents  in  which  he  had 
just  taken  part  combined  to  crush  him  ;  and  so  singular 
was  his  demeanour  that  the  peasants  who  met  him  on  the 
way  felt  convinced  that  some  great  calamity  had  befallen 
the  D'Escorval  family.  When  he  reached  home  his  moth- 
er experienced  a  terrible  shock  on  perceiving  the  wild, 
haggard  expression  of  his  features.  Still  he  had  enough 
strength  of  mind  left  to  try  and  reassure  her.  "  It  is  all 
over,"  he  exclaimed  in  a  tremulous  voice,  "but  don't  be 
worried,  mother ;  for  I  have  some  courage  left  as  you 
shall  see." 

He  did,  in  fact,  seat  himself  at  the  dinner-table  with  a 
resolute  air.  He  ate  even  more  than  usual ;  and  his  father 
noticed,  without  alluding  to  it,  that  he  drank  more  wine 
than  he  was  in  the  habit  of  doing.  He  was  very  pale,  his 
eyes  glittered,  his  manner  and  appearance  were  suggestive 
of  the  febrile  agitation  from  which  he  was  suffering,  and 
he  spoke  in  a  husky  tone,  talking  much  and  at  times  even 
jesting. 

"  Why  won't  he  cry,"  thought  Madame  d'Escorval  ; 
"  then  I  shouldn't  be  so  much  alarmed,  and  I  could  try  to 
comfort  him." 


348  MONSIEUR  LECOQ. 

This  was  Maurice's  last  effort.  Directly  dinner  was  over 
he  went  upstairs  to  his  room,  and  when  his  mother,  after 
repeatedly  listening  at  the  door,  finally  decided  to  enter 
and  ascertain  what  he  was  about,  she  found  him  lying 
upon  the  bed,  muttering  incoherently.  He  did  not  appear 
to  recognize  or  even  to  see  her ;  and  when  she  spoke  to 
him,  he  did  not  seem  to  hear.  His  face  was  scarlet,  and 
his  lips  were  parched.  She  took  hold  of  his  hand  and 
found  that  it  was  burning,  and  this  although  his  body  trem- 
bled, and  his  teeth  chattered  as  if  with  cold. 

No  words  could  describe  Madame  d'Escorval's  agony 
on  making  this  discovery.  For  a  moment  she  feared  she 
was  about  to  faint :  but,  summoning  all  her  strength,  she 
sprang  to  the  staircase,  and  cried :  "  Help !  help  !  My  son 
is  dying !  " 

With  a  bound,  M.  d'Escorval  reached  his  son's  room, 
and  after  a  brief  inspection,  instructed  a  servant  to  saddle 
a  horse  and  gallop  to  Montaignac  for  a  doctor  without  de- 
lay. It  is  true  that  there  was  a  medical  man  at  Sairmeuse, 
but  he  was  a  disgrace  to  his  profession.  After  serving  for 
a  short  time  as  an  army  surgeon  he  had  been  dismissed 
for  absolute  incompetency.  The  peasants  shunned  him  as 
they  would  have  shunned  the  plague_;  and  in  cases  of 
sickness  they  always  sent  for  the  village  cure.  M.  d'Es- 
corval now  followed  their  example,  in  this  respect  well 
knowing  that  the  physician  from  Montaignac  could  not 
possibly  arrive  long  before  morning. 

The  Abbe  Midon  had  never  frequented  a  medical  school, 
but  since  he  had  been  ordained  to  Sairmeuse  the  poor  had 
so  often  asked  for  his  advice  that  he  had  applied  himself 
to  the  study  of  medicine,  and,  aided  by  experience,  had 
acquired  a  knowledge  of  the  healing  art,  well  worthy  of  a 
faculty  diploma.  No  matter  at  what  hour  of  the  day  or 
night  his  parishioners  chanced  to  beg  his  help,  he  was 
always  ready — and  the  same  answer  invariably  greeted 
their  appeals  :  "  Let  us  go  at  once."  Thus,  when  the 
people  of  the  neighborhood  met  him  on  the  road  with  his 
little  medicine  bag  slung  over  his  shoulder,  they  doffed 
their  hats  respectfully  and  stood  aside  to  let  him  pass. 
Those  who  did  not  respect  the  priest  honoured  the  man. 

When  the  abbe  learnt  that  M.  d'Escorval  needed  his 
advice  he  set  out  at  once.  The  baron  was  his  friend,  and 
he  was  anxious  to  do  everything  in  his  power  to  save 


MONSIEUR  LECOQ.  349 

young  Maurice  whom  the  frightened  messenger  described 
as  almost  dead.  The  priest  was  just  in  sight  of  Escorval 
when  the  baroness  rushed  out  to  meet  him,  and  her  manner 
was  so  suggestive  of  despair  that  the  abbe  feared  she  was 
about  to  announce  some  irreparable  misfortune.  But,  no 
— she  took  his  hand,  and,  without  uttering  a  word,  led  him 
to  her  son's  room.  Maurice's  condition  was  indeed  criti« 
cal,  but  it  was  not  hopeless  as  the  priest  at  once  perceived  ; 
"  We  will  get  him  out  of  this,"  he  said  with  a  smile  that 
re-awakened  hope. 

And  then,  with  the  coolness  of  an  old  practitioner,  he 
bled  his  patient  freely,  and  ordered  applications  of  ice  to 
his  head.  In  a  moment,  all  the  household  was  busy  exe- 
cuting the  cure's  various  orders.  He  took  advantage  of 
the  opportunity  thus  offered  to  draw  the  baron  aside,  and 
inquire  what  had  happened. 

"  A  disappointment  in  love,"  replied  M.  d'Escorval,  with 
a  despairing  gesture.  "  Yesterday  afternoon  M.  Lache- 
neur  refused  to  let  his  daughter  marry  Maurice,  who,  how- 
ever, was  to  have  seen  Marie-Anne  to-day.  What  passed 
between  them  I  don't  know,  but  you  see  what  is  the 
result." 

At  this  moment  the  baroness  re-entered  the  room  and 
the  abbe  was  unable  to  make  any  rejoinder.  Maurice  was 
now  more  excited  than  ever ;  and  in  his  delirium  he  fre- 
quently muttered  the  names  of  Marie-Anne,  Martial  de 
Sairmeuse,  and  Chanlouineau.  The  hours  slowly  passed 
without  bringing  any  change  in  his  condition,  and  the  vigil, 
shared  by  the  distressed  parents  and  their  friend  the 
priest,  was  an  anxious  one  indeed.  Dawn  was  just  at 
hand,  when  the  stillness  out  of  doors  was  broken  by  the 
sound  of  a  horse's  hoofs  approaching  at  a  swift  gallop 
along  the  neighbouring  highway.  A  few  minutes  later, 
and  the  doctor  from  Montaignac  entered  the  house. 

"  There  is  no  motive  for  immediate  alarm,"  he  said, 
after  carefully  examining  Maurice  and  conferring  with  the 
abbe.  "Nothing  more  could  be  done  at  present.  The 
fever  must  take  its  course,  but  I  will  return  to-morrow." 

He  did  return  every  day  during  the  ensuing  week,  and 
tjot  until  his  eighth  visit  did  he  proclaim  Maurice  to  be  out 
of  danger.  Then  it  was  that  the  Baron  d'Escorval  sought 
information  concerning  the  cause  of  this  dangerous  attack, 


350  MONSIEUR  LECOQ 

and  learnt  from  his  son  what  had  transpired  in  the  pine 
grove  near  La  Reche. 

"  Are  you  sure,"  asked  the  baron,  when  Maurice  had 
finished  his  narrative,  "  are  you  sure  that  you  correctly  un- 
derstood Marie-Anne's  reply  ?  Did  she  really  tell  you 
that  even  if  her  father  gave  his  consent  to  your  marriage, 
she  would  refuse  hers  ?  " 

"Those  were  her  very  words." 

"  And  still  she  loves  you  ? " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it." 

"  You  were  not  mistaken  in  M.  Lacheneur's  tone  when 
he  said  to  you :  '  Be  off  you  young  wretch !  do  you  want  to 
render  all  my  precautions  useless  ?  " 

"  No." 

M.  d'Escorval  sat  fcr  a  moment  in  silence.  "  This  passes 
comprehension,"  he  murmured  at  last.  And  then  so  low 
that  his  son  could  not  hear  him,  he  added :  "  I  will  see 
Lacheneur  to-morrow :  this  mystery  roust  be  explained," 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITT 


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